


Sitting Next to You

by lunarshores (damichan)



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Action & Romance, Because it's Wade, Blood, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Flu, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Guns, Happy Ending, Human Experimentation, Identity Reveal, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mad Scientists, Pancakes, Pandemics, Sickfic, Slow Burn, Suicide, Tacos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2018-08-09 23:51:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 54,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7822087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damichan/pseuds/lunarshores
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it comes to Deadpool, Peter never thought he'd have anything to do with him, apart from kicking him out of town. But it had been a terrible day, and Deadpool is always good at cheering him up, not that he'd ever tell him that. And he's just in town for a simple SHIELD mission, and nothing could be wrong with that. Right?</p><p>Or: it started with tacos, as the best things always do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My very first Spideypool fic, and I think it will be a long one, whoops... Mostly based on the movies and bits of the comics I've read. A massive thank you to [ImperialMint](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperialMint) for betaing for me <3
> 
>  **Yellow is bold** and _White is italics_
> 
> Title from Heathens by Twenty One Pilots
> 
> Enjoy :D

Peter whooped as he swung through the air, twisted impossibly to shoot another web, and shot off towards the end of his patrol route. The air was perfect, just edging into fall, and the wind felt amazing as it brushed off the events of the day.

Today had been quite a Monday. First, his alarm hadn’t gone off (or he’d turned it off in his sleep again) and he’d woken up to his phone ringing ten minutes before he was supposed to meet his advisor. On campus. Twenty minutes away.

He’d bolted awake with an unforgiving surge of adrenaline and answered the phone before he’d fully gotten awake.

“PARKER! I didn’t ask you for sentimental dribble, now did I? NO! This so-called story on Spider-man is nothing but the lovesick diary of a preteen girl! Protecting people! If after all this time you can’t seem to remember your objectivity, I’m going to have to restrict you to just photography! You can’t be a journalist without integrity! The truth Parker! I wanted 1000 words of truth to print today, and I had to write it myself!”

“But, Mr. Jameson, sir--”

“Don’t mumble! You’ve got one more chance Parker. I don’t care what little deal you have with the web-crawling abomination, but you’ll stick to the truth, MY TRUTH, or you’ll be back to just selling photographs! And that’s if I’m in a good mood! You understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” Peter had said, but the dial tone was already blaring in his ear. He’d stared at his phone for a minute, then the sheer amount of light in the room had sunk in.

“Crap!”

He’d made it one minute late and dressed in cleanish clothes only by dint of his webslingers, only to have to wait for his advisor for twenty minutes, stomach protesting the lack of breakfast. His advisor had finally walked in with Starbucks, nodding at Peter with a wide smile.

“Sorry to be a bit late!” His advisor had grinned at him. “Traffic was brutal today.”

He’d then told Peter his data for his thesis needed additional trials, all with the same smile, like it didn’t mean hours and hours in the lab he didn’t  _ have _ . He’d be lucky to sleep at all in next couple of months.

Class at least had been okay, only the one today. He’d gone straight to work at the lab afterwards, grabbing a sandwich on the run. He’d had to stay late for his boss, watching over an experiment that did exactly nothing. A problem for tomorrow. 

Peter twisted into a flip with another whoop. It was days like today he really needed to be Spider-man. Needed the breeze, needed the exhilaration of swinging through his city. Needed to kick some bad guy butt.

A familiar tingle jolted through him, and he adjusted his trajectory without a thought, a grin splitting his face. It had been a quiet patrol so far, only two muggings and a robbery at a convenience store. Peter had noticed criminals weren’t big on Mondays either. He could use something fun before going home to rework his lab schedule and finish his reading. 

When he got to the alleyway though, he groaned as an all-too-familiar voice made itself heard from in the middle of a crowd of robots, each with a round saw blade 2 feet in radius.

“I’m goin’ off the raaaaaaaaails on a crazy train!” Deadpool’s katana were slicing through the robots to the rhythm of his song, dancing through the saw blades with only the occasional spray of blood or motor oil. Peter webbed the three closest to him together, their saw blades entangling and smoke rising.

“Hey, Spidey! Is that you?” Deadpool continued on before Peter could answer. “Of course it’s him, Yellow, who else shoots anything white at us these days? I know, I know, but you gotta give it to me, that  _ ass _ .” Peter webbed four more of the robots together, and they started moving towards him. He shot a tripline out in front of them, and they collapsed in a screech of metal.

“Are you going to bark at the moon next?” Peter asked just as a blade slid a centimeter away from his cheek into a robot behind him. It disturbed him a little that there wasn’t even a blip on his spider-sense for that. Deadpool’s arm rested on Peter’s shoulder, and he grinned at Peter.

“Don’t be silly, baby boy,” he said, and Peter wrinkled his nose at his breath. “That’s Wolvey’s song of course. Why is Tincan’s the only one that gets remembered? Just because his name is in it.” He leapt back and flipped, whooping as he sliced the nearest robot’s head off. “Ten points! You’ll never catch up now.”

“Why are there robots attacking you anyway?” Peter asked. He swung up to the nearest roof and snagged Deadpool with a web, letting him crash just a bit into the side of the building biting his lip to hold back a laugh.

“I have no fucking---Owww, bad Spidey!” The whites of Deadpool’s mask widened comically, when he saw Peter getting ready to spin a net for the rest of the dozen robots still standing, and he began wriggling. Peter dropped the net on the rest of the robots and yanked.

“I win,” he said, when the clamor had died down, and Deadpool pouted at him, dangling from the strand of web with crossed arms and an exaggerated pout. 

“What will New York say when they hear what a cheater their beloved spider-themed hero is?” Deadpool muttered. “Shut up, White. I know.”

“I doubt it will change their impression of me, menace and threat to the city and all that is good that I am,” Peter said dryly, and Deadpool looked up at him, frowning.

“Right? That’s not usual at all. He must---” Deadpool cut himself off by slicing through the webbing that held him up and fell with a crunch that had Peter wincing and dropping down beside him. 

“Hey, you okay? I would have gotten you down.”

“You know me, Spidey, I’m like the ultimate Weeble. I wobble, but I don’t fall down.” Deadpool scowled and growled at himself. “Yes, I know I just fell down, it’s called a metaphor, look it up sometime, dumbass.” He straightened his bent leg with another crack that made Peter want to shudder and bounced up, looking for all the world like an excited puppy. “Tacos?”

Peter considered. He’d never taken Deadpool up on his offers to various meals before, usually eager to get away. But all that was waiting for him at home was leftover boxed mac ‘n’ cheese and memories of a sucky day. And it would be nice to have some company besides rewatching Adventure Time for once. 

“First you have to explain about the robots. And why you’re here. No jobs in my city, remember?” Peter knew everyone else in the superhero community would be adding Deadpool to their list of why this particular Monday sucked even worse than usual, Peter felt himself relaxing. Deadpool was crazy, sure, and very dangerous, but there was something endearing about him. At the thought of tacos his stomach growled loudly--- that sandwich was a long time ago okay?--- and Deadpool’s head shot up. 

“Really? Don’t play games with my heart, Baby boy.” Peter shifted under his intense gaze. How did he manage to convey fluttering eyelashes through his mask?

“Well, if the Backstreet Boys are going to be involved...” Deadpool threw himself at Peter’s feet dramatically.

“No Backstreet Boys if you want it that way, Spidey... Fuck! Bad Deadpool. That was a another one, wasn’t it? Yellow, I swear if you don’t stop humming and it ruins our first date with Spidey then---”

“Woah, not a date, Deadpool. Just tacos, okay? I didn’t really get the chance to eat today, so... anyway who doesn’t like tacos?”

Deadpool squealed. “Are you a poor, starving, student having to resort to prostitution in order to eat? I have lots of money, Spidey. Is this the start of my  _ Pretty in Pink  _ fantasy? Pinch me. Preferably on the ass. Really hard.”

“Well, there is going to be no kissing involved, so I guess there’s that.”

“What about sex? Because I could---”

“Nope, just tacos.”

“Can I just--”

“Nope.”

Deadpool sighed, drooping, and Peter thought it really should be impossible for such a large man to pout so well. In a mask no less.

“Fine, there’s a place two blocks east that’s decent.” Deadpool bounced off despite his sulk muttering to himself something about how if Peter were a prostitute there’d be no way he’d be starving that Peter tried really hard to ignore. He was fine anyway, there’d just been no time today. Though with the rent due and the extra unpaid lab work and Jameson refusing to print anything he wrote, this was shaping up to be a ramen and rice and beans month. Still, no need to tell Deadpool.

“So what was up with the robots?” Peter said after walking in silence a moment.

Deadpool’s head snapped up like he he just remembered Peter was still here, gaping a bit as Peter walked beside him.

“I don’t know, my little spidey. They must have just wanted a piece of this hot ass and forgot to get in line.” He posed dramatically, and Peter snorted.

“Right.”

“I’m not here to kill anyone either! Well, maybe I am. I just got this new automatic and the blood spatter it gives, baby---” Peter coughed, and Wade slapped a hand over his mouth. “Why are we here?” He frowned, tilting his head. “Yeah, maybe to see Weasel. He could be here. No, not to kill him. Though he does tempt us a lot. But pretty toys! But that time when he---No, bad Deadpool. Anyway, he’s not usually here, so... Oh! The pirate wannabe called. Said he had a job for me. But it’s for the good guys, so no need to try and stop me and kick me out of the city as much as you know I love it when you get rough with me, Baby boy.”

“Fury?” Peter frowned. Calling in a loose cannon like Deadpool wasn’t a good sign. Though everyone knew SHIELD wasn’t above assassination, and Deadpool  _ was  _ the best, if less than circumspect. 

Peter laid a hand on his shoulder, and Deadpool jolted like Electro had hit him then froze. He tried to smile reassuringly through the mask. He had to remind himself again that this man was dangerous. 

“So, what kind of tacos are we talking?”

Deadpool gasped. “He believes us,” he whispered, too softly for most people to have heard. Deadpool shook himself and spoke louder. “The kind that make your asshole burn on the way out. You’ll love them, Spidey, promise.” 

Though Peter had his doubts, the place they ended up---while rundown--- smelled heavenly. The woman behind the counter didn’t bat an eye at having Spider-man and Deadpool in her restaurant, just started muttering in Spanish.

Deadpool ordered in rapid fire Spanish, and she yelled at him for several minutes, then stomped off to the kitchen, while Peter watched.

“Er...”

“Best you don’t ask,” Deadpool said wisely. “Mostly because I have no fuckin’ clue, mi amigo.” 

Somehow Peter didn’t buy that, but he didn’t ask. He didn’t want to have to leave yet. She stomped back soon after, with two massive paper bags that shimmered with grease. Deadpool began digging around in his pouches for his wallet, and before Peter could slip out cash from his glove, the woman began scolding him again, and Deadpool cringed back.

“Fine, fine, thank you.” Deadpool huffed and took the food. “Rude old hag.”

The woman spun to Peter and shook her finger angrily at him. “No money from friend either! Go! Eat!”

They went.

Once settled on a nearby rooftop overlooking the park, Deadpool humming merrily, Peter’s hands hovered on the edge of his mask. Deadpool was very obviously Not Looking though, and Peter’s lips twitched as he rolled up his mask, pointedly turning away as well. He knew Deadpool was scarred horribly from what the Avengers had told him, but he hadn’t expected any respecting of boundaries from what he knew of the man.

Peter bit into his first taco and held back a moan.

“Orgasmic right?” 

Peter choked on his taco, and Deadpool snickered. 

“You saved that woman back there sometime, didn’t you?”

“Eh maybe. Or was it her cat?” Deadpool shrugged. “Always save the people with good restaurants, Spidey. Rule numero uno.”

Peter took another bite, humming. Much better than leftover mac ‘n’ cheese.

“Sooooo... first date awkwardness check. What shall we start with? Revealing origin stories? Oh I know! Tragic things we blame ourselves for! I mean I don’t know if you’ve lost anyone... it kinda goes with the super thing though.” Deadpool had already managed to go through two of his tacos and was spraying bits of the third from what Peter could see out of the corner of his eye.

Peter shoved aside a sudden image of Gwen as she fell, her face just when she realized he had failed her.

“One: still not a first date. Two: that’s a bit heavy don’t you think? We should start with most embarrassing fight or something.” 

Deadpool squealed. “You’re so right, Spidey! For super amazing heros like us, all of our epic team-ups totally count as dates!”

“I think we’ve fought more than we’ve teamed up.” Peter dug out another taco.

“Gotta love all that unresolved tension! The readers eat that shit up, Baby boy!”

“Right...” Peter shook his head. 

Deadpool was silent a moment, and Peter had to fight down the urge to turn to see what was up.

“You feeling okay, Spidey? I mean as much as I’m loving the fact that you said yes, you  _ never _ say yes.” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. It was Monday. Everything kinda sucked until I put on the suit.”

“Ooooooh, secret identity stuff!” Wade muttered so quietly a normal human wouldn’t be able to hear.“Hush, I can’t believe he’s opening up either. I know White, but fuck off let me have this moment okay? Can you do that?”

Deadpool cleared his throat, and Peter could feel him squirming from where he sat a yard away. They ate in silence for a moment, Deadpool occasionally muttering to himself. Peter balled up his grease soaked bag and rolled down his mask before turning back to Deadpool, who had yanked down his mask long before.

“Tacos were a great way to end the night. Thanks, Deadpool.”

“You can call me Wade. If you want to, that is. I know you’re identity is secret and all, but the cat’s kinda out of the bag for me. Like there was no cat or it’s dead now or something and the bag blew away and is probably trapped in a tree somewhere.” 

Peter smiled. 

“Thanks, Wade. We should do it again sometime, okay?”

“I--- uh, yeah, sure, whatever.”

“You going to be in town long?”

“Maybe forever if I’m here for real, and this isn’t just the least sexy dream of you I’ve ever had.”

Peter decided he wasn’t going to touch that one. 

“Night, Wade. Good luck with your mission, and watch those SHIELD guys.”

He swung off the building and flipped through the air. Somehow, the biochem reading for tonight didn’t seem so dreadful anymore.

**Did we SERIOUSLY just have a date with Spider-man?** Yellow asked, and Wade shook his head in disbelief.

_ He said it wasn’t a date. Repeatedly. _ But even White sounded dubious, and Wade squealed and flopped back on the roof to roll back and forth.

“I think... I think we did guys.”

_ He seemed upset. Or tired. _

**We should kill whoever upset him. BAM BAM, right in the head! Or ooooo, we could take it real slow.**

“Spidey wouldn’t like that though.”

**He wouldn’t have to know.**

_ We don’t know who upset him though. _

“It’d go against the super-bro-code if we tried to figure it out because we’d have to find out his identity probably.”

**No fun! OH! We should bring him more tacos. He was hungry. Tomorrow, we can feed him again! Sitting next to that luscious ass in the moonlight.**

_ You’re such a romantic, Yellow. _

**I know I---hey, was that sarcasm?!**

_ How could it be anything else? He was lonely or hungry. It was a once off. He has better things to do than to hang out with this ugly bag of crazy He didn’t even try to catch a glimpse of your ugly face. And good thing too, or we would have seen those tacos again. _

“Would you shut the fuck up and let me have this moment, White? Anyway, don’t we have a job to do tonight?” Wade dropped off the roof, ignoring the bones splintering and hobbling down the alley.

_ We’re already late. _

**But SPIDEY! No one could expect us to turn down a date with Spidey!**

“But maybe he’ll be impressed if we take the SHIELD job and do well. Heros do SHIELD jobs, right?” Wade squinted at the street signs. Where was he supposed to be meeting them again?

_Spider-man doesn’t normally. Only if something major attacks the city._ _Besides, he isn’t an idiot. He’ll know you’re not a hero._

**I think it’s a great plan. Kill the baddies!! Win the ass! Blow up shit!**

_ He really won’t like it if we blow up his city. _

Deadpool’s phone began blaring “I’m sexy and I know it” and he tested out his new dance number for it before answering.

“Wilson! Where are you? We were expecting you half an hour ago!”

“Funny story! I was on my way when---”

“I don’t care about your excuses, Wilson. I’ll pick you up.” Fury hung up before he could reply. 

_ Rude. _

**I’ll say! We should kill him.**

“He’s almost as bad at staying dead as we are though.”

**More of a challenge that way!**

A car turned the corner, and Wade frowned at it. “That was entirely too fast.”

**He’s like an evil Kay.**

_ Men in Black, really? _

**What, it fits!**

“I could see him taking coffee breaks with caffeine-addicted alien bugs.”

The car pulled up, and Wade got in when the door opened. “Hi, are you the kind of man that takes coffee breaks with alien bugs?”

“Do I look like I have time for breaks?”

**Point.**

“Now, can we please get to the mission? I know you’re a pain, Wilson, and considering what happened  _ last _ time we called on you, you should consider yourself very lucky we’re letting you do a trial run.”

**Well, I never! The audacity! As if what happened last time was our fault.**

_ It probably was. The big guy here fucks up everything. _

“I have no fucking idea what you’re rambling on about. Now who are we un-aliving tonight?”

_ What did happen last time? _

**........**

“Don’t ask me!” Wade muttered to his boxes, and Fury’s mouth twisted.

“You know on second thought...”

“NO! I’ll be good. I wanna tell Spidey about how I was a hero tomorrow on our next date!” Fury looked at him blankly. After a moment he just shook his head.

“Right. Whatever. If we weren’t so short right now...” Fury sighed. “This is search and destroy mission, got it? And by destroy, I don’t mean the whole city.”

“Oh, goody!” Fury looked disgusted when Wade clapped his hands and squealed.

_ Who wouldn’t be disgusted by you? _

**I still think we should unalive him. He doesn’t support our relationship with Spidey. And Spidey talked with us today! And ate with us! It’s true love and nothing can stand in the way of that. So canon!**

“Spidey wouldn’t like it if we did that.” Fury rolled his eyes. 

“I’m well aware of Spider-man’s affection for the city,” Wade blinked and cocked his head trying to figure out how they’d gotten on that topic, “but it’s me you’ll have to worry about.” 

“I don’t worry about you at all. You’re a big boy, right? Change your own diapers and everything.”

Fury sighed.

**Someone is cranky today.**

_ Must have missed naptime _ **.**

“Listen, it’s imperative that the person behind this not make it out alive, nor her research. If you managed to fuck this up, just get in the same room as her and set this off. It will take care of your job for you. It will be rather unpleasant for you and anyone nearby though, so I suggest not fucking it up.”

Wade took the Weird Purple Jello Orb of Death and Destruction from him. “Oooooo so shiny!”

Fury sighed again. “If you’re not even going to pay attention to me, read the damn file yourself.” A tablet---fancy, but not nearly as fancy as the ones Wade had lifted from the Avengers for fun last time he was in New York---was flung at him. Wade grinned as he snatched it out of the air.

“Awww, it must be hard working for the government. Tincans have better toys than you.”

“Wilson?”

“Yes, Captain Morgan?”

“Shut the fuck up and get out of my car.” 

_ Tell me again why we took this job. The pay sucks. _

**Dirty deeds, done dirt cheeeeap, dirty deeds and they’re done dirt cheap!**

“You just had to get him started, didn’t you White?” Still, Wade kept humming the song as he sauntered down the deserted hall. A guard stumbled out into the hall, and Bea was in his hand and beheading the guard.

“Shhhhhh,” Wade whispered as he stepped over the corpse, “We’re hunting Wabbits.”

_ He’s not making any noise anytime soon. _

**Gargle gargle is a noise!**

_ Well, he’s as shushed as he’s going to be. _

The rest of the guards were still huddled around the surveillance screens, apart from the patrols, which he should be approximately halfway in between. Wade slipped right by the open door with them none the wiser.

**This is boring! We don’t need sneaking, we need action! Bust in there, shoot them all, BAM BAM BAM.**

“I know but Fury said they’d run with the box of whatever we’re supposed to blow up if they notice us.” Wade stopped at the elevator, sighed, and turned to start up the stairs.

_ Since when do you follow instructions?  _

“If we’re going to be good guys, we need to.”

_ You’re going to fuck this up so badly. _

**Let’s just blow up the whole building! We brought the C4 right?**

“Shut up! We’re doing this right!” Wade looked down at himself, and blinked. “Fuck! We left the bag in the cab again!”

_ That’s one unattended bag the authorities will have fun with _ . 

“Dopinder wouldn’t call our bag in! He is a true friend.”

**NOOOOO, TOYS!**

“Shit, fuck, fucking---no, wait, it’s cool. We’re doing it right anyway.” Wade checked his pouches hastily, 50 rounds. He sighed. He could do this.

_ Why bother? _

“For Spidey. Because he believed us.”

That shut up both boxes, and Wade sighed in relief. Yellow was right, it would be easier just to blow up the whole building, but there would be no confirmation of target annihilation. He didn’t know why the research needed special-destroying, but if SHIELD thought it was dangerous and didn’t want to keep it... It was probably bad news.

Which meant that by destroying it and killing the bad people who made it, he’d get to be good.

_ I think there is a flaw in that logic somehow _ .

Wade ignored White and kept climbing up the neverending stairs. “Okay, next time I don’t care, we’re taking the elevator! They always have to be so many floors up, and this is too much cardio! It’s unfair. Heros get to fly or shoot off web---haha, shoot off web, yes please---or maybe get an airlift! But no, not for Deadpool! Have fun on the  _ 29 _ flights of stairs, loser.”

_ Maybe they think you’re getting fat. _

Wade gasped. “You take that back!”

“Hey did you guys hear something?” a distant voice said, and Wade froze.

**YAY! Finally, we got caught! Now for the real fun! Guns, guns, guns!**

Wade drew out his guns, and sighed happily. The weight in his hands, the smell of gun oil---he fired at the head that peered down at him from a couple floors above, hitting perfectly in the eye. “Game on, motherfuckers!”

Wade threw himself up the stairs to the landing with the dead guard just as the alarm started blaring. “Wabbit season!”

The guards---no goons, these were definitely evil goons or Wade would eat his guns--- recovered from the shock. “Duck!” Wade yelled as he dropped to the floor and slid behind them. He rolled, aimed, and all four crumpled to the floor with only two shots. The alarm was still screeching, and Wade shot it twice.

“Stupid! Worth it though.”

_ Riiiiiiiight _ .  _ You do realize it only shut up that one siren? _

“I’m not deaf, White.” Wade pulled the fire alarm and added bells to the sirens. It would stop the elevators though, which gave him a small window to catch up with the target fifteen stories up, who had three stories to climb before they were flying away in a helicopter. 

“Fucking stairs.”

**But hey, our ass is going to look fiiine after this.**

Peter closed his book with a sigh and stretched. He’d finished his reading and it was only two in the morning. He could sleep a whole extra hour tonight. It would be amazing. 

His ancient windows shuddered in the breeze, and Peter let himself look out the window. Deadpool was out on a SHIELD mission somewhere in the city. He’d be fine though. Well, of course he’d be fine, he couldn’t die, so he had to be fine. 

Oh, who was he kidding? He hadn’t even bothered to take off his suit. SHIELD was questionable at the best of times, and he’d seen how they talked about Deadpool---Wade. He slipped out the window with the broken lock onto the fire escape and swung up onto the next building. A tingle of awareness at the back of his skull, and he was off, swinging towards an even less savory area of town than the one where he lived. 

He heard the sirens within a few minutes and sped up. Deadpool could take care of himself, of course, but Peter felt uneasy when he landed on top of the blaring building, where a helicopter stood ready for take off. The sound of gunshots had Peter going for the stairs, ripping the door off its hinges when it proved locked. He jumped over the railing, free falling a couple floors until he reached the source of the noise.

As he shot a strand of webbing, he flipped, and landed on the ceiling of the 29th floor without a sound. The gunshots had stopped, and Peter never thought the lack of gunshots would concern him, but he moved swiftly towards the one lit doorway. 

“I’m flattered I have to say. Having the infamous Deadpool sent after little old me?” The voice was silky, with an undertone of fury that had Peter moving faster. 

“That’s Mr. Deadpool to you, not that it will matter soon!”

“Out of bullets, and you’re still making threats?”

“Oh, but who says I need bullets when I’ve got  _ this _ ?” There was a weird popping noise and a splash then a yell of pain from Wade, cut off into a whimper. 

The woman laughed just as Peter made the doorway. “Let’s see you heal from that.” Peter launched himself into the room and froze in horror.

Wade writhed on the floor, covered in something viscous. It had clearly exploded near Wade, surrounding him in spatter. The woman who’d been taunting him blinked at Peter from behind a blast partition spattered in the liquid. A low hiss rose from everywhere the liquid touched, smoke rising. Wade stopped moving.

“Spider-man?” Peter ignored the woman, and she shook herself and ran out. Peter swung above Wade, and snagged him with a web. The liquid splashed, and he hissed in a breath as his skin sizzled. He gritted his teeth and flung Wade into the chemical shower near the door and yanked on the chain. 

Not for the first time, he gave thanks that even evil scientists followed proper safety procedures. In the nearby sink, he rinsed off the couple burns he’d gotten, hissing when he realized he’d lost a few layers of skin.

Distantly he heard the sound of a helicopter taking off, and he pulled Wade out of the shower and felt for a pulse. He didn’t find one. Wade’s suit was in tatters hanging off him in places and blood oozed everywhere. It was hard to tell what was flesh and what was suit. He’d lost more than a bit of skin and Deadpool’s suit blended in perfectly with the blood. 

There was the sound of hurried footsteps down the hall, at least half a dozen, and Peter bit back a curse. He scooped up Deadpool’s limp form and ran straight at the window. He rolled at the last moment, smashing through the glass with his back. They fell for a moment, then Peter webbed them few blocks to a roof he’d stashed stuff on at some point.

Wade was still cold and unresponsive when he set him on the roof, and Peter reminded himself that Wade should be fine. A healing factor to rival Wolverine’s. Peter looked at the remains of Deadpool. Could Wolverine come back from whatever that super-acid was? Deadpool was stone cold and his suit hung off him in obvious tatters now, and Peter turned away to rummage through the plastic tub of supplies he’d left up here. He pulled out a spare mask and tugged that over Wade’s face, eyes carefully shut. 

“Super-bro-code,” he whispered, then turned back to the box. There was a change of clothing, but Peter looked at it ruefully. Wade would never fit in his clothes not even if he were awake enough to help squeeze himself in them. Maybe he should start stocking blankets too, though he couldn’t imagine why he would need one by himself.

The first aid kit was useless too, and Peter shortly found himself with nothing left to do. He sat crossed legged by Wade and pulled out his phone, lips tightening as he dialed Fury.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's [my tumblr](http://www.lunarshores.tumblr.com) if you want to drop by and say hi!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the wonderful response to this! I was overwhelmed by all the nice comments and kudos!!
> 
> As always thank you to [ImperialMint](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperialMint) for betaing!!
> 
> **Yellow is bold** and _White is italics_
> 
> Enjoy :D

Wade came to all at once, unable to move and feeling like his skin had been flayed off. 

_Melted off. The_ _Weird Purple Jello Orb of Death and Destruction had some kind of acid in it._

Well, that explained the searing agony. Things that shiny and squishy were always the worst.

**I personally feel betrayed by Squishy.**

_You do have a lot in common with Dory_.

**An honor.**

Wade tried to remember if they’d at least completed the mission. If Blackbeard got mad at them, they wouldn’t get any more SHIELD missions. Which meant no more Spidey dates, most likely.

_Pretty sure the bitch got away while you were busy melting. Way to go, fuck-up. Spidey wouldn’t have liked us anyway, so it’s just as well._

The world felt like being stuck on one of those cheap fair rides, spinning and spinning, and his ears roared, but slowly his senses started returning in the wake of pain.

“Fury.” The voice was familiar, angry, and not supposed to be here. Who was it? Had some SHIELD operatives come to clean up his fucking mess already? “What the heck were you thinking?”

_It can’t be..._

**SPIDEY!**

Wade sucked in a deep breath as soon as his lungs would cooperate and started coughing. A hand immediately came to hover over his shoulder before Spider-man thought better of touching him.

**Because you’re ugly**

_It might be that he doesn’t want to hurt us actually._ White sounded stunned, and Wade coughed harder.

“Hold on a sec.” Spider-man leaned in closer—Wade could feel the heat radiating off of him—and his voice softened. “Hey Wade, you okay?”

“Think I’m still dead. Or hallucinating.”

“You don’t seem dead.” A note of worry crept into Spider-man’s voice, and Deadpool could have kicked himself. Even imaginary Spidey shouldn’t have to be worried about the likes of him.

“I’m good, baby boy.”

“Good.”

**See!! He does care. I told you, but did you listen? NO!**

Fury’s voice came through the phone rather clearly. “Spider-man? You’re going to have to be a bit clearer.”

“With Deadpool.”

“Look, I know he’s unstable—and weirdly obsessed with you may I add, so watch out for that—” Wade growled, and this time Spider-man’s hand did rest on his shoulder, stunning him into silence with its solid warmth, “but we’re really short handed. I mean if you’re volunteering yourself...”

“I’m not asking why you hired him.” The edge of steel and danger was back in Spider-man’s voice, and Wade shivered.

**So hot! *swoons***

_How can you swoon? You’re a box._

**You can do it too, try it! *swoons***

_.... *swoons*... Huh._

Wade shook his head. “I have enough problems without all the swooning, thank you.”

_I’ll say_.

***swoons***

“Why did you give him a weapon meant to destroy him too?” Spider-man’s fingers were tightening involuntarily on Wade’s shoulder, and it was all too easy to picture him pinning Wade down and using _that voice_ in an entirely different situation. He really should have worn the cup today. Maybe he could pass off an erection as morning wood death-style. That was a thing, right?

“It’s not like he won’t be fine, no matter what happens to him. The target was very important and—”

“He still feels pain! You wouldn’t do this to anyone else. Not even Logan.”

“Well, he is a mercenary.”

“So he’s good enough to hire to solve your problems, but the fact that he kills people for money makes it okay to treat him like shit?”

**Oooooh, Spidey is mad!**

_He swore_ . _For us._

“Was the mission complete? Did he kill the target?”

“How should I know? When I found him _covered in some sort of super acid_ , there was a woman there, who left—by helicopter, I think.”

“Fuck, that idiot can’t do anything right.”

“He might have had a chance if he weren’t _dead_.”

“Now, Spider-man...”

“No, Fury, I’ve had enough of your bullshit.” There was only silence to answer that, and Wade decided to try opening his eyes. Spider-man sat next to him on the roof, the light from the city reflecting in the clouds that hung low tonight.

“I don’t miss flip phones, but they did make hanging up on people much more satisfying.”

“I keep one for the sound effect,” Wade said and fidgeted. His skin was almost completely back, and he’d be okay enough to start sorting out the failed mission. “Spidey...”

Wait, acid. Fucking hell, what was on his face? His hand scrambled to his face.

_There goes any chance at romance._

**Fuck.**

Perfectly intact material covered his face completely.

Spider-man looked almost sheepish, shrugging his shoulders at Wade’s questioning look. “Super-bro-code right? It’s one of mine, but it will have to do.”

“I’m wearing _your_ mask?”

“Yeah, sorry. At least people confuse us all the time anyway, so I doubt it will make much difference.” A hint of nerves tinged Spider-man’s voice, and Wade drew his fingers over his mask worshipfully.

“Are you kidding, this is awesome!”

**We’re already to the clothes sharing part of the relationship!**

_Only because he hasn’t see your face._

**Can you feeeeeeeeeel the love tooonight?** Wade winced at the caterwauling and shook his head to dispel it. It didn’t work.

_Never does._ Despite the fact that White _also_ never shut up, it sounded resigned about the fact nothing shut Yellow up. Well nothing non-lethal, which so wasn’t happening while Spider-man was a foot away and taking care of him.

_It’s been a Disney_ _TM_ _night, I guess._ Wade nodded.

“Good job pronouncing the TM even if Disney does technically own our asses. Possessive bastards have too many lawyers.”

Spider-man tilted his head in confusion. “Er...”

“It’s like I’m a real hero like you!” Wade said, grinning and ignoring the pain as he reopened the skin on his cheeks.

_Pretty sure a hero isn’t in the mask or you’d already be one._

“Shut up, White.”

“Listen, Wade... “ Spider-man drew in a breath, then huffed a laugh as Wade adopted his best listening pose. “You want to be a hero?”

“Yes, so we can be bros,” Wade said at once. “Also because it’s a shame there aren’t more action figures of me. I mean, even Bird-boy gets merchandise, and everyone knows he’s just Captain America’s sidekick and prank target.”

Peter snorted. “I feel like I should argue with that, but how do you argue with the truth?”

“I find random inapplicable facts and an extreme adherence to the belief you’re right to be helpful.”

“You should be Trump’s campaign manager.”

“Ew no, Spidey, I might be a mercenary, but I have _standards_.” That brought out the gorgeous laugh Wade had been looking for. Well, okay it was pretty dorky, but that made it all the better.

**You think he really is a nerd under the mask?** Yellow sighed happily, song done for now.

“He gets all our references, of course he is.”

_That makes you a nerd too._

“You take that back!”

**Yeah, do you see these muscles?**

_Spider-man has muscles._

**Mmmm, yes he does**

“Anyway,” Spider-man said, “if that’s what you want, are you sure SHIELD is the best way? I mean, I know they _mean_ well—or think they do at any rate, but...”

“I know, I know, killing is wrong no matter who you do it for.” Wade rolled his eyes. “But money, Spidey. Hehe, Money-Spidey. Plus the pus-filled abscesses generally are worse than _me_. And that’s saying something, my eight-legged friend.”

**And killing is fuuuuuuuuuun!**

_Not sure that’s selling us any._

**So you** **_do_ ** **like him**

_Shut up. I just don’t want to listen to your whining when this inevitably blows up in our face._

“Why don’t you come on patrol with me?”

“I’m sorry what? I think my ears might still all melty.”

“No, they aren’t. You should try patrolling with me. No killing allowed. Rubber bullets only.”

“You can still kill people with rubber, baby boy.” Wade waggled his brows, which was probably less than effective through two masks, even with one shredded. Spidey would know anyway. He was cool like that. “You just have to get creative.”

“Then you’ll have to be boring.”

“You seriously want me to come along?”

**HE ASKED US OUT! STOP STALLING AND SAY YES!!!!!! He might change his mind.**

_Wow, Yellow, something intelligent to contribute for once. He’s just going to screw this up like he always screws up._

“I guess we’ll have to track down that woman SHIELD hired you to kill too.”

“You’re going to help me kill someone?” An image of Spider-man breaking someone’s neck popped into his mind, and Wade lost all his breath. “Damn, that’s hot.”

**Spank bank’s having a record number of deposits today. I cannot wait until we get home.**

“No, but I want to know what has Fury so worked up.” Spider-man gave him a once over that Wade _felt_ even if it was completely clinical. “Meet me here at... 11 tomorrow night.” Spider-man thrust—haha, thrust—his phone into Wade’s hand. “Put your number in here.”

_He’s serious._ Wade had never heard White sound so shocked, not even when Hans had betrayed Anna.

Wade’s fingers trembled as he filled out his contact information.

“This has to be a hallucination.”

Spider-man sighed. “Wade, I _already_ like you. Despite my better judgement. I don’t let anyone take me out for still-definitely-not-a-date tacos after a shitty day, you know. If you’re serious about leaving the mercenary business, I want to help.”

Wade’s jaw dropped, and the boxes went completely offline.

“Now, I really should be going. I’ll see you tomorrow, Wade.” With Spider-man gave the most adorable little wave he would totally squeal over once vocal function returned and dropped off the roof, vanishing into the night with a whoop.

* * *

 

What the heck had he been thinking? Peter groaned, looking at the contact in his phone (Mr. Ryan Reynolds Wishes He Was As Hot As Me—really Wade?) with a snort. Sure, Deadpool had been in a pinch last night, and yeah, SHIELD treated him like shit, but he wasn’t some citizen Peter was saving. He was the world’s best mercenary. He could take care of himself.

And yeah, sure, he liked Wade’s sense of humor, but telling the obsessive, unstable man he enjoyed his company? Maybe not the brightest idea he’d ever had.

But maybe Wade did need rescuing or at least a friend, and who else would do that? He listened to Peter better than anyone else from what he could tell, and that would help. If he was in anyway serious about leaving behind the mercenary business... Peter sighed and dialed Aunt May.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Aunt May. How are you?”

“I’m fine Peter. And you? You better be taking care of yourself.”

“You know me, Aunt May. I’m good.”

“I do know you, why do you think I worry? Always too busy for meals.” There was a pause. “Are you sure everything is alright?”

“I—yes.”

“Peter.” Peter let out a sigh.

“Can’t pull anything over you, can I Aunt May?”

“I should hope not. You’ve never been terribly good at it, dear.”

Peter hesitated. Aunt May knew he was Spider-man—she wasn’t stupid, and he _was_ terrible hiding anything from her—but it wasn’t something they talked about often.

“I just met this... acquaintance again last night. And I ended up promising to spend more time with him.”

“Oh, Peter that’s wonderful! You never see your friends anymore.”

“MJ is engaged Aunt May.” He left unsaid what had happened to Gwen and Harry.

“You can make new friends Peter. It wouldn’t kill you.”

It might kill them though, and Peter sighed. “Well, anyway, this person isn’t exactly stellar friend material. We have different... approaches.”

“Peter Benjamin Parker! I thought I raised you better than that.” Peter laughed and ran a hand through his hair.

“You did, Aunt May. That’s kinda the problem. He kills people for money.”

There was a long silence on the other side, and Peter wondered if he’d gone too far this time. Aunt May shouldn’t be involved in this side of his life at all, but—

“It’s that Deadpool character that’s madly in love with you?”

“Aunt May!”

“What Peter, I can use the internet too. You never tell me anything, and there are all these lovely sites that keep track of you, you know.” Peter _did_ know, and he flushed bright red.

“He’s not madly in love with me, he’s like that with everyone, and please, I will tell you anything you’d like if you never go on those again.” Aunt May laughed but didn’t say anything, and Peter let his head fall to the table, face still flaming.

“Well, Peter you must like him, or you wouldn’t have had tacos with him.” Someone had gotten a lucky picture of the two of them last night, and Peter had seen it when he’d checked this morning. She really did read the fan sites. Oh God.

“Seriously though,” she continued, interrupting the constant stream of things flashing through his mind he’d seen over the years on the internet involving him that Aunt May should Not See, “he might need a friend Peter, even more than you do. Maybe you can help him, maybe you can’t, but it won’t hurt anything to try.”

“He says he wants to change.”

“All the better!. He doesn’t seem to have anyone, and that can make people do terrible things. You can always kick him out of the city like usual.”

Peter smiled at the pride in her voice.

“He lets me win.”

“Don’t be modest, Peter, I’m sure you could beat him.” Peter thought back to the time or two they’d been on the same side, and even with Peter’s restrictions on killing, Wade had been... something. But no need to make Aunt May worry more than normal.

“Right, well, it’s getting late, and I’m supposed to meet him soon.”

“Have fun, dear.” Only his aunt would tell him to have fun while fighting crime with one of the most dangerous men in the world, Peter thought with a fond smile.

“Stay off those sites, Aunt May.”

“Oh, I’m not a prude, Peter, and they have the best news of you. Some of the artists are quite talented, you know.”

“I will tell you anything. Please.”

“Well, it might be nice to hear about you from you.”

“I know... I just don’t want you to worry.”

“Peter, I will always worry. No matter what you do. If you’d never started dying all the laundry purple—really dear, it’s not that hard to separate out clothes—and coming home with inexplicable bruises, I would still worry. It’s my job. It would be nice to worry appropriately and to be informed.”

“I’ll be better, Aunt May.”

“I’ll see you Sunday?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Don’t be silly. If the world is ending, you should go stop it. What about the next Sunday?” Peter laughed.

“I’ll bring the eggs.”

“You see that you do. Bye Peter, love you. Good luck tonight.”

“Love you too, Aunt May.”

“Oh and Peter? You should watch which phone you call from. It matters with other people.” She hung up before he could respond, and Peter looked down and saw Spider-man’s phone in his hand and closed his eyes. How had he ever managed to keep Spider-man a secret? It was a wonder he still managed to keep SHIELD and the Avengers in the dark.

He half heartedly cleaned for a while, unable to settle to any of the things he should be doing, then sighed. He might as well put on the suit and be early.

Webbing through the city calmed him down like always, and he dropped on the building half an hour early, feeling a bit silly. His spider-sense tingled, and he dropped to the floor just as a blade sliced through where he’d been.

“What the—Wade!”

Deadpool stared down at him with his head titled. “Spidey? You’re early! Couldn’t stay away from my manly charm, could you? Like a moth to a flame. Hmmm or is that offensive? I know moths are insects, White. No, of course they are different. Fine. What are spiders attracted to? I didn’t actually think you’d come or I would have prepped better. Or maybe not, I do like it rough.”

“Wade.”

Wade hummed and looked back at Peter.

“Why did you try to kill me?”

“I didn’t try to kill _you_ , Spidey.” Wade waved a hand. “Just a trespasser. I didn't think you’d actually come”

“We’re the trespassers technically, and remember the not killing thing. And I told you I’d meet you here.”

“It was only a _little_ slicing! And your stuff is here, so not just anyone should be on the roof.”

“No one knows about that but you. Who’s going to notice one more storage tub?” Peter gestured to the line of them in various states of neglect.

Wade gasped and sheathed the katana so he could cover his mouth with both hands. “I know a Spidey secret?! Oh em geee, Yellow was right!”

Peter sighed. “Maybe we should just get going?”

“Yeah, let’s go fuck shit up!” Peter crossed his arms, and Wade slumped a bit, looking abashed. “I mean, um, let’s go save the day?”

“Better.”

“Um, Spidey, I just had a thought. You normally get around by swinging, and I don’t swing, I splatter so how—”

Peter took a running start at Wade and tackled him off the roof.

“Fuck me, Spidey—and I do mean that literally, please—you’re going to be the actual permanent death of me. Too fucking hot. I’m going to burst into flames and make that kid redundant. And I know, Yellow! He doesn’t even mean to be, he’s just naturally this hot, it’s not fair! Shut up, White. Tell me something I don’t know.”

Peter waited until they were only twenty feet in the air before webbing them to the next building in a lazy arc. Carrying Wade under one arm made things a little bit awkward though—they had to free drop much more often for one and totally throw off his center of gravity—, and he sighed, admitting the inevitable. This would be easier if he had Wade on his back. His spider-sense jangled, and Peter cut the web they were on, and shot one in the other direction, yanking hard.

“Baby boy, I have a newfound respect for your stomach. Seriously, how do you not get motion sick?—I know it has nothing to do with his gag reflex, White. Let me have the moment, can you?—But seriously, too much more of this, and I’m going to have to worry about hurling on the baddies not accidentally killing them a little. This is a dream, but I didn’t think through all the spinning and jerking (not the fun kind) and dizziness.”

“Oh, sorry.” Peter slowed down. “I don’t notice it, and it’s been a long time since I carried someone for any distance.”

Peter tried to even out his swinging, and decided he’d really have to keep both hands free after this. It had worked better with Gwen and MJ when he’d carried them on his back. Wade might be insufferable about it, but he could always smash him into a building or drop him a little. A flash of Gwen falling and knowing he’d be too late sparked in his mind, and he fumbled the next web. He caught them, and they continued on, but Wade was looking at him.

“You okay, baby boy? Because I must be heavy as fuck. I mean muscle is dense right? Shut up, I’m not dense. Well, I am because I am so—you know what I mean.”

“Wade, I can carry cars.”

“Right. I’m not saying I’m heavier than a car, but you seemed off your game, and I don’t want to be a burden, and...”

“It wasn’t you. I’m fine, Wade.” Peter dropped them into the alleyway, behind a mugger holding a young woman at gunpoint. The woman was begging, and Peter felt enormously tired for a moment. How many such scenes had he seen now?

He snagged the gun out of the man’s hand with a strand of web and tossed to Wade.

“What a lame gun. Ooooo, can I shoot him?”

“No.”

“Hey, what the fuck man?” the mugger said, and Peter webbed his mouth shut, then stuck him to the wall.

“Awww, Spidey, I didn’t get to do anything!”

“You can get the next one—without injuring them seriously.”

“What counts as seriously? Like I can see how limb loss might be out, but what about broken bones?” The mugger whimpered, and the woman they’d rescued stared at them. Peter sighed.

“Would you like me to walk you home before I call the cops?”

“No, if it’s okay, I’ll stay and press charges.” The woman looked curiously at Deadpool who waved at her, while Peter dialed.

“Are you his sidekick? Your suits match,” she asked Wade, who giggled.

“I think I’m in hero training. I’m not really sure, but when Spidey says ‘come’, boy do I if you know what I mean.”

The woman snorted, and Peter resisted smacking his head on the filthy alley wall. “Cops are on their way.”

“Thanks, Spider-man. I wasn’t even looking for trouble. Everyone knows this is your territory, so there aren’t many problems...”

“There will always be idiots. It’s better to be careful.”

“Dude, you sound so old when you’re like that,” Wade said.

The woman snorted again. Sirens wailed in the background. “I like your new partner, Spider-man.” Peter shook his head, and Wade snickered.

“Thank you!” Wade took a bow. “Deadpool at your service, getting Web-head to loosen up. I will be here all—well until Spidey-babe gets tired of me and kicks me out again.”

Peter’s heart clenched at the easy way Wade accepted that he would turn on him one day. “I’m not going to—”

“Please, baby boy. We both know how this will end.”

And for some reason, even though he’d been thinking the same thing earlier that infuriated Peter.  The cops pulled up before he could protest though, and he was just as glad. They’d given the woman enough of a show really.

“C’mon, Deadpool. They’ve got it from here.” Peter dragged Wade away.

“Aww, but I liked her. She really seemed to get us, you know, as a couple.”

“We’re not a couple, Wade. Now get on my back.”

“You know, baby boy, you send a lot of mixed messages. ‘We’re not a couple, Wade.’ ‘Ride me, Wade.’ Wade, wade, wade.  Yeah, I know I like it too,” Wade said and gingerly placed his hands on Peter’s shoulders.

“Sometime today, Wade.” Peter dragged out his name this time, and Wade hummed and suddenly was clinging to him like an octopus. If an octopus were a furnace, inclined to cuddle, and smelled like gunpowder and leather. Surprisingly, he was as careful as possible not to touch inappropriately, and Peter smirked. He knew Wade was all talk.

It was much easier this time, and soon they were soaring between the skyscrapers of Manhattan. Wade had quietened after the first couple excited squeals, but of course that didn’t last.

“Mush, Spidey-steed!” Peter snapped off the web and let them drop into a free fall.

It took awhile for Wade to notice they weren’t swinging up anytime soon, but his hands tightened on Peter’s shoulders when the ground grew closer. “I’m sorry! It was all Yellow’s fault!” They were only about thirty feet from the ground now, and Wade was clinging to him, his voice going increasingly higher. “Okay, okay I’m sorry. I deserve it, but you don’t deserve it, and you could go splat permanently.” Fifteen feet. “Please, baby boy!” Wade tried to shove off him, as if Peter might save himself if he didn’t have Wade, and Peter grabbed him by the leg with sticky fingers, and caught them neatly with a web, swinging in between a couple of cabs.

“What. The. Fuck.” Wade leaned down to look at where Peter’s hand was stuck to his thigh. “Are your fingers sticky? That is so cool! So that’s how you skitter around on walls. Is it permanent? Because I don’t mind, but it could have been placed a bit better.”

“I’m not going to drop you, Wade. Nor will I go splat.” Peter turned around and grinned at him through the mask. “I _have_ done this before. And yes that’s how I _skitter_.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Wade muttered, and Peter kindly pretended he didn’t have super hearing. “And that’s the spider word. You have to skitter. It’s in the spider rules.”

They stopped another few muggings and two assaults that Peter had let Wade take. Perhaps it wasn’t his place to judge, to mete out justice, and maybe he should just web them up for the cops, but neither of the would-have-been victims had stuck around to press charges, and Wade was _very_ good at scaring the shit out of people. And breaking a few bones, but hey, that totally could have been on accident.

Wade had seemed just as outraged as Peter always was by them, and it was nice for once to know they would think twice about it before trying again. Peter could scare people, but everyone knew Spider-man wouldn’t really hurt civilians too much, even scum-of-the-earth civilians. The same could not be said for Deadpool. Even Peter shivered where he was clinging to the shadowy wall watching when Wade’s voice had dipped down, all violence and danger.

Peter sighed as they swung through the city for a last pass. He varied his patrol route in order to keep his neighborhood more of a mystery, but even with Wade throwing off his center of balance, he didn’t need to focus much on patrolling. The evening air was nice, just a slight chill to the air that made having a human blanket a bit more comfortable.

“Take me anyway the wind bloooows,” Wade sang softly, and Peter’s lips twitched. “Don't stop love the way you'll make me float, rIght up off my tip tooooooes.”

“A bit sappy, don’t you think?”

“Not for you, Spidey. The depth of my devotion knows no bounds of sappiness when it comes to my love for you.” Peter could feel Wade shrug where they were pressed up against each other, and Peter snorted. “Besides, Yellow chooses the songs.”

“And Yellow is...?”

“One of my boxes. They provide running commentary. Rude bastards mostly, though Yellow is much more fun than White. You wouldn’t like him though. He’s always wanting to kill people.” Peter knew Wade talked to himself but he’d never bothered to ask about Yellow and White before, though he’d heard Wade addressing them enough. It should probably bother Peter more  that Wade heard voices telling him to kill people, but he was stuck on one detail.

“And he still picks such songs to serenade me.”

“He miiiiiight have a crush on you.”

Peter rolled his eyes. Of course.

“Here I thought that was you.”

“Oh, me too. The ass deserves worship, what can I say?” Wade shivered, and Peter’s breath caught, suddenly very conscious of how tightly they were pressed together each point of contact. “12/10 would bang.”

“And White?” Peter asked before he could think better of it. He really didn't need to get further involved in Wade’s “crush”.

“He’s just waiting for you to come to your senses and hate us. But I think he secretly likes you too.” Wade’s head dropped to rest on Peter’s neck, and he heaved out a sigh. “Yes, you do. Stop playing tsundere, it’s so not kawaii when you do it.”

Peter coughed to get Wade’s attention from the argument going on his head as he landed in front of _his_ favorite taco shop.

“Post-patrol platonic tacos?”

“YES! I was good. I deserve tacos.”

“You do,” Peter said with a laugh. “You did great tonight. But tomorrow, we’re getting Chinese. Or maybe Thai.”

That sparked off a furious argument with the boxes, but Peter just grabbed Wade by the hand and dragged him inside to order. They ordered—well, Peter ordered, Wade was still out of it, but luckily not picky as long as tacos were involved—and Peter steered Wade outside and webbed them up to a roof.

They ate in silence—well what passed for silence from Wade, which was a long, involved discourse on Golden Girls and Bea Arthur, and Peter didn’t even know there _was_ anything to have meta on in that show, that Peter just let wash over him—pointedly turned away from each other. Peter thought over what Aunt May said, and how he’d laughed more tonight teaming up with Wade than he had all last week and sighed.

When there was a break in the most involved meta Peter had ever heard, he turned to Wade. “If you’re serious about trying to quit being a mercenary, Wade, I’d really like to hang out more. It’s nice having tacos out with someone.” It was half reward to get Wade to stick with it, and half truth.

Wade was absolutely still with shock. Peter waved a hand in front of him, and he shook himself like a soaking wet dog.

“I must be hearing things again. No, besides you two. Though I wish you would shut up too.”

Peter pinched him, and Wade shrieked. “Baby. But no, it’s real.”

“Did you just call me baby?”

“No, I call you _a_ baby.”

“I’m still counting it.”

“Whatever.”

“But Spidey, you must have oodles of friends to have tacos with! Better than me for sure. You’re... amazing, if you’ll pardon the pun.”

“I never pardon puns. I applaud them.” Peter smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. “And I’ve had three. Two are dead, my fault for both. And... the other just wants a normal life. Not something easy if Spider-man is in your life. We don’t really talk anymore.”

“Oh, Spidey—Shut up Yellow, that won’t help. In what world is that comforting. Yes, exactly. Even if it were, it wouldn’t be if _I_ did it—does this mean we’re on the tragic story part of dating? My love interests tend to die. It’s a super thing probably. My friends I just kidnapped and kept hostage!” Despite his jovial and yet deeply questionable words, Wade’s hand came up to squeeze Peter’s shoulder. Peter let himself lean into just for a bit. For Wade.

“I mean being your friend is like a dream come true itself. I am such a fan!”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Peter said and got a glare.

“Sarcasm is unbecoming. Unless it is me doing it in which case it rules.”

“Naturally.”

“And hey! I might be a terrible friend, but! I _can’t_ die. Well, not permanently. I have a redeeming feature!” Peter thought he should find that offensive or sad or _something_ other than funny. He laughed anyway. Wade’s voice dropped so low Peter almost couldn’t hear it. “Yes, I know it’s a bad idea, White. But what do we matter? Exactly. Yes, I know, but he asked.”

Peter froze.

“Jolly Roger called and yelled at me today,” Wade said, and Peter blinked, wondering if he’d imagined the quiet words.

“Oh?” he asked, and Wade fidgeted nervously. “Yeah, I have the find the evil broad, yada yada , never going to hire me again—they _always_ say that—but um, I think I’ll find her by Thursday if you did want to come? I’m still supposed to kill her, and you don’t want me to kill people though, and why would you want to come anyway, so... never mind.” Wade shrank, and Peter was surprised at how much he wanted Wade to be bouncy again.

“I’d have to come stop you, anyway. And I am curious.”

Wade  brightened. “You would! I can blame it all on you and not have to kill her and make you mad.”

“So Thursday night?”

“Yeah. We can be like spies!” Wade said.

“Sounds good. I’ll text you so you have my number.” Peter stretched and yawned, before digging out his phone. He sent a spider emoticon, ignoring the frenzy of chatter and incoherent noises prompted by the acquisition of his number. “I should get going though.”

“Night, baby boy,” Wade said, and the depth of fondness in his voice had Peter feeling warm.

“Night, Wade.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on [my tumblr](http://www.lunarshores.tumblr.com)!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the support so far! I can't believe this has gotten over 100 kudos so fast. All the comments and kudos really mean a lot to me (and make me want to write the next bit that much faster) so thank you again!
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful [ImperialMint](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperialMint), to whom I owe the existance of this story and so much more.
> 
>  **Yellow is bold** and _White is italics_
> 
>  **Chapter warnings:** Reference to suicide/self harm because this is Wade...

“First all the fucking stairs, now this interminable glorified ladder, what is it with this fucking science lady and being up high?” Wade heaved a sigh and kept climbing.

_ You shouldn’t have gotten into the merc business if you didn’t like getting up to high vantage points. _

**How else are we going to snipe her? Bam bam, brains everywhere, it’ll be great!**

“It’s fine most of the time, but is it too much to ask for that I get a job on the first floor every now and again?” The wind was a bit chilly, but it was welcome after climbing a dozen stories up on a fire escape.

_ Yes. _

**Uh-huh.**

“Gee, you guys are so helpful.”

_ What are we even doing here? _

Wade froze in place, one foot still in the air. “Our job.”

**Gonna explode that fucker’s head like an overripe watermelon.**

Wade started climbing again. The roof was only another ten or so floors away, he could get set up, shoot the bitch, and then hop down. Maybe get some tacos. Yeah, he deserved tacos. 

_ You promised to come get her with Spider-man.  _

Wade froze again, but he made himself keep going, just a hitch in his step this time. He sped up. His ass was going to be comparable to Spidey’s at this rate.

“Well, look White, we all know how that will turn out. Sure, we’ll probably catch her and what then? Turn her into SHIELD? They are the ones that hired me in the first place to kill her. They’re just going to shoot her if we take her in, might as well shoot her here.”

**... This will disappoint Spidey?**

_ Of course it will, you moron. _

“It’s better for him though. Sure, I betray his trust, but we all know that’s going to happen at some point  _ anyway _ . This way we have less time to get attached.”

**Excuse you, we are already attached.**

_ Let him lie to himself. It will be fun. _

“Fuck you both. If we do turn her in with Spidey, and they kill her, how do you think he will feel? Better to have him righteously angry at me than hurt.”

_ That’s surprisingly thoughtful. _

**Wait, if this means no Spidey-dates, I’m not sure I want to kill her.**

Wade reached the top of the roof and started setting up his scope. This mission was for Spidey even if he wouldn’t see it like that. He wouldn’t fuck it up this time. The sniper rifle felt good in his hands, and his mind quieted. This was for the best. Sure Spidey would be upset, but Wade wouldn’t have him feel like blood were on his hands. Spider-man was a hero, and Wade would kill any number of people to protect that. 

**But Spidey-dates!**

“How far do you think the spatter will be with this gun? We haven’t tried it before.”

**Oh, good point! Let’s find out!!**

_ Idiot _ .

“This should make you happy, White. Proving you right.” Wade scanned the windows of the building across the way, and it didn’t take him long to find the woman working in a lab.

_ I knew this would blow up in your face. I just didn’t think you’d knowingly set the fuse. I still think it’s a bad idea. If he really  _ does _ want to help, then what do think this will do to him? _

“He’s not stupid enough to believe I can change.”

_ He is however idealistic enough. He believes in second chances; that’s why he doesn’t believe in killing baddies. _

“Well, that’s certainly not my problem,” Wade snapped and lined up the shot with his finger on the trigger.

_ He’s going to blame himself anyway. For not trying hard enough or some shit. _

**We’re going to hurt Spidey?**

Wade’s finger froze on the trigger. His mind flashed back to the night Spidey had put his own mask on Wade to keep him comfortable. Wade still had it. He’d even washed it, though he had no intention of giving back. Spidey had trusted him with his mask. Spidey had  _ cared _ . Spidey  _ had sworn _ for him, had told off Nick Fury for not treating him like a human being. Spidey believed in him. Spidey said he liked him, wanted to hang out. Had wanted to be friends. Didn’t have any other friends.

_ We’re going to hurt him on purpose.  _ White had never sounded so... quiet before.

**NO! We can’t.**

“It’s for the best.” But Wade was already lowering the gun, hands shaking. “It’s for the best for him if I kill her now. We all know that!”

_Don’t get me wrong. We’re going to hurt Spidey. We all know_ that. _Well maybe not Yellow, he’s an idiot._ _But do we want to do it on purpose?_

**Hey! I resemble that remark.**

“It’s resent, dumbass. You’re just proving his—never mind.” Wade unloaded the gun. “This is such a bad idea.”

**Spidey-date!**

_ Probably. _

“Hey, what do you mean by agreeing with me? You’re the one who said not to do it.” Wade paused in packing away the gun to glare. At the wall, not himself because that makes you go cross-eyed and gives you a terrible headache. He’s tried.

_ Since when do you listen to me? _

**We should get Spidey a gift!**

“At this rate the one I’m going to be shooting is me, just to get a little peace and quiet today.”

**But we meet Spidey in a few hours! If we’re late, he might worry. And we need a giiiiiift!**

_ And come looking for you. You gave him our address when you gave him your phone number. _

“Doesn’t have to be there.” His phone started blaring  _ Let’s Get It On, _ and Wade froze guiltily. “Fuck, Spidey, your timing is something.” He picked up. “Hello, Spidey-babe, miss you? He made kissy noises into the phone and was completely bowled over when Spider-man just laughed. It made Wade’s heart do a weird flippy thing that couldn’t possibly be good. Maybe he could have heart attacks even if they couldn’t kill him. They were supposed to make a weird pain in your chest right?

_ You’re a fucking idiot. _

“Hey, Wade, you didn’t actually tell me the time or place or anything for tonight.”

“Oh, right details. I don’t normally bother because I have to hunt people down mostly anyway.”

“I’d prefer not being hunted down. It seems more efficient to just agree on a place and time.”

_ We have to stash the gun first _ . Fuck. Right, that gave it away a bit.

Wade looked around wildly, but of course there wasn’t anyplace good to hide a sniper rifle. “Umm, in a couple hours maybe? I gotta drop by my place first.”

“Sure, I just have to put on my suit, and I’m ready to go so whenever.”  Wade froze, one foot on the ledge of the roof, one in midair. He was talking to him, and he wasn’t wearing his suit. Wade tried to form an answer, but all that came out was nonsensical consonants with a high-pitched garble in the middle.

“Er, are you okay?” Spider-man, who was currently  _ not  _ Spider-man asked, and Wade fell off the roof.

**Oh. My. God. What do you think he looks like? I mean besides insanely hot. Blond? Brunette?**

“Fuck, I don’t know. Does it even matter?”

“Um, yeah. I think it matters.” Wade blinked. Spidey cared if he were blonde or not? He really ought to just dye— 

“Oh, yeah! I am stupendous, baby boy, I wasn’t talking about that, but—MOTHER FUCKER!—” He’d completely forgotten about the ground rising rapidly toward him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

_ I am done with you two idiots. _

“Any time you want to leave—”

“I should head over now?” Spider-man asked, and Wade scrambled upward again, ignoring the general condition of his legs which was doing a good job of imitating roadkill. That had been run over by tanks and then thrown into some shit factory machine that turned people into ribbons if they slipped up and then into hot dogs. 

“NO! I mean, I need time to hide my body pillow of you. Fuck, no, never mind that, that was an utter lie. I need to primp?” Pain was making his head dizzy, but at least he could make forward progress at a reasonable pace now, so he made his way toward the subway regardless. “Again I ask, why no first floor jobs?”

**Roger that, body pillow hiding is on the list of Stuff-we-need-to-do-to-not-freak-Spidey**

_ You couldn’t keep track of a list if it were burned into your skin. _

**Duh, it would just heal.**

“Riiight, well as suspicious as all that is, I’ll be there at eight, okay?”

“It’s a date!”

**Yay!**

“It’s really not.”

“But it  _ could  _ be.”

Spider-man sighed. “And yet it’s still not.”

_ He wouldn’t be caught dating you idiot. Spidey isn’t stupid. And whatever he looks like it’s not like a toad fucked an avocado, gave birth, skinned the hybrid, and wore it as a mask. Still rotting. Because you stink too. _

“I’ll grant you the toad fucking, but I do not stink!”

“Er... right then. I’ll see you later, Wade.”

**You do stink. Also you made Spidey hang up on us!**

“I should have just shot the bitch.” Wade sighed wistfully as he got on a train, ignoring the stares of everyone in the car as he snapped his leg back into place. “It would have made life so much easier.”

_ You would still stink. _

 

* * *

 

 

Peter frowned at the time on his phone for the fiftieth time in the last half hour. There were still fifteen minutes before he should leave, but time was dragging. Wade certainly hadn’t sounded okay on the phone, and while he could rationalize all he wanted that no matter what Wade  _ would _ be fine, he found himself anxious. 

Of course that could also be because Wade had obviously been hiding something, and the things Wade would deem necessary for hiding... 

Peter sighed and shut the textbook he hadn’t managed to read a word of. Wade wouldn’t mind if he were a little early. Probably. 

It took him only ten minutes to web over to Wade’s neighborhood, which was unsurprisingly in a slightly more dubious area of town (Peter couldn’t afford much better, and it wasn’t like he was worried about break-ins: he had no stuff to steal, and he could take care of any would be burglar if he were home), and he stopped at the building across the way to check the address.

Wade had thoughtfully provided the window position instead of an apartment number, and Peter counted five up and three over before webbing his way over to the building. He clung to the side of the building and stared at the window a moment. Did you knock on windows? It seemed rude to just barge in (and Wade might try to shoot him, you never knew), but he didn’t want to break the window. 

He could hear the muffled sounds of Wade arguing to himself about a body pillow—oh god, that was actually a thing... nope, not going to think about that—and knocked softly on the window frame. Wade cut off mid word and there was silence a moment before Peter could hear Wade’s heavy footsteps.

Peter realized he’d be able to tell Wade’s footsteps in a crowd and shook his head. Super-hearing could be weird.

“I feel like Rapunzel, only you know, bald,” Wade said upon opening the window.

“You could have given me your normal address.”

“I tried imagining you in an elevator, and my mind broke. Even more than it already is. And stairs and I are having issues.”

“Have you tried counseling? I’ve heard it can do wonders.”

“Stairs refuse to compromise and change for me.”

“And what have you compromised on?”

“Oh, just get that ass of perfection in here, bug boy,” Wade said, and Peter complied, looking around curiously. The place was a mess as expected, but honestly not much worse than his place during exams. There were crumpled takeout bags and old chinese food containers everywhere and dishes that hadn’t been washed in so long that Peter could probably find new organisms growing in them under a microscope. The couch was the only piece of furniture apart from the coffee table, and looked abused but so comfortable you might sink into it and never come out. The room did not have a pleasant smell though, and Peter wrinkled his nose under his mask. 

“Arachnids are not—”

“—bugs, I know, Spidey, but sacrifices must be made for alliteration’s sake. Though arachnid ass has potential.”

“Not really a term of endearment.”

“Have you seen your ass? Calling someone after the greatest work (that’s your ass) of God since Bea Arthur cannot be anything but an endearment, baby boy.” 

Peter’s cheeks flushed and decided, once again, ignoring was the best policy. “Who’s Bea Arthur?” he asked. 

Wade’s jaw dropped so obviously Peter could see it even with the mask. “Who is... Who is Bea—I can’t even say it. I know! He seems so well educated most of the time. Oh baby boy, we have some quality couch time scheduled now. Seven seasons of untold brilliance await you! Or um, you can borrow my  _ Golden Girls  _ dvds, I guess—or no, that could be our Spidey-present Yellow! What better present than the glory that is Bea Arthur?—if you want to watch on your own.”

“No, that sounds cool, actually. I have nothing else to do after our patrol.” Nothing he wanted to do at least. 

Wade was still a moment. 

“That’s... fantastic!” He threw his hands up in the air “Oh em geeeee, Netflix and chill with Spidey!”

“Not happening, Wade,” Peter said, and it was a little disturbing how  _ rote _ that was getting. 

“You know you love me Spidey.”

“Yeah, yeah, shouldn’t we get going? If we’re going to watch whatever... I do have sch—something to do tomorrow morning, so...”

“Yes! Let’s go kick bad guy ass! One sec!” Wade moved off to the open door that lead into a bedroom, muttering. “No, we can’t bring that. Spidey won’t let us use it. I know! Huh, that’s a good point. What are we getting? Of course I could kill someone with rubber bullets, I just have to—ah, there they are.” Peter shook his head and leaned back against the wall, his lips twitching despite himself.

“So what’s the game pl—” Wade paused in the doorway. “Damn, you’re gorgeous, Spidey.” Peter hastily stepped forward, face flaming. He was extra grateful for the mask covering his face.  

“What was I saying?” Wade asked, then continued before Peter had a chance to say he didn’t know. “Right thanks. So if we can’t kill the creepy scientist lady, and SHIELD hired me to kill her, are we still giving her to SHIELD?”

Peter blinked.

“Because they’ll just kill her. Which is bad?” Wade’s head was tilted adora—ridiculously as he stashed weapons and ammo about himself so fast Peter could barely track what went where, and Peter scrambled to find an answer.

“Er, um why don’t we start with finding out why they want her dead. It’s tricky with SHIELD.”

“Okay, all ready for my Spidey ride!” Wade was suddenly behind Peter, arms wrapping around him. “I brought lube. Just in case,” he stage whispered in Peter’s ear, and Peter squashed the urge to shiver. What the hell. 

“Always good to be prepared, I guess?” Just like before Wade was careful to touch as little as possible, and Peter relaxed as he threw them out the window and spun to neatly web it shut.

Wade cheered, and Peter laughed as he launched them to the next building. 

“So cool, Spidey!”

“I have lots of practice.”

“So you live in an apartment!” 

“Yeah, that would narrow it down in New York,” Peter said, and Wade sighed. 

“Boner killer. But not actually because—”

“Yeah, I get it. Where are we going anyway?” 

“Umm... exactly opposite of the way we’re going.”

“And you didn’t think to mention that?” Peter shot a web at the antenna on top of the nearest building, and they swung around it in a wide lazy arc.

“Well, I figured you’d ask and until then I was supposed to enjoy the ride?”

By the time they dropped down (a long time later because Wade was either shit at giving directions or was really enjoying the ride—which Peter couldn’t bring himself to fault him for because _nothing_ beat web slinging across the city—or both), Peter was really ready to punch something. 

“So what’s the plan?” Wade asked, then hissed to himself: “No, we’re not on that plan anymore, remember Spidey wouldn’t like that plan. Yes, I know it would be fun.”

Peter lips twitched into a smile he was thankful Wade couldn’t see. “Well, we find out what she’s up to and stop her?”

“That’s it?” Wade threw his arms out dramatically. “But Spidey, she melted off my face!”

“I think technically you did that,” Peter said, failing to keep the edge out of his voice. “And SHIELD.”

“I know,” Wade whispered. “So hot.” Peter blinked at him for a moment, then shook his head. 

“Let’s just get this over with.”

“Aw, but Spidey, you can’t cut our date short!”

“I thought we were watching...  _ Golden Girl...  _ after?”

“It’s  _ Golden Girls _ , baby boy, though obviously the other three are nowhere near as important and what the hell, you were serious? You  _ want  _ to watch a show with me.”

“Yeah, if we finish early.” Peter thought of all the work waiting for him tonight, but Wade started bouncing, and he smiled. One night off wouldn’t kill him.

“Fuck yes, let’s find this bitch!”  

With that he dashed off, smashing through a window and Peter followed into a thankfully empty room. Wade had apparently decided there was no need for stealth, so Peter webbed him up in a cocoon before he could get to the door.

“What the fuck?” Wade asked and wiggled impatiently. “Let me go so we can go find the bitch keeping us from the wonder that is our goddess.” He gave up on escaping and inched towards the door in a credible worm. 

“We have to find out what she’s up to first, Wade, be patient.” The room they’d broken into was full of computers, and Peter booted on up. Wade was getting closer to the door, so he leisurely webbed him back to his side, Deadpool whining all the way.

“Spiiiidey, you know I’m no good at waiting. When I imagined you webbing me up, it was much different if you know what I mean.” 

“Too bad. It will be fast, I promise.”

“You never say it will be fast in my imagination either.” Wade sighs. “I have to say, it’s a bit of a disappointment.”

“Well, it all is situational. I’m not one to rush when I web people for more fun reasons.” 

There was a moment of stunned silence as Wade considered that just as Peter hoped. The computer started up, an Peter slipped a usb drive into the slot. His program busted through security, and he began digging for documents, hopefully of the incriminating sort. These people were thorough with their security though, and this computer didn’t have access to much except the property records of the city. 

“Can you fuck someone on the ceiling?”

“Hm?” Peter blinked down at Wade staring up at him from the floor, no longer struggling at the bonds, then looked up at the ceiling reflexively. “Er, I’ve never tried. Probably?”

“If you ever need someone to practice with, I volunteer.”

“Um, thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” Peter said absently, frowning at the computer. “Deadpool, why did you take us to the city government offices?”

“Huh?”

“We’re in a government building.” 

“Fuck if I know. I just found her, and this is where she was.”

“Interesting.” Peter shutdown the computer and took two steps away before remembering and turning back. Wade had resumed the worm and was inching after Peter with no complaints. “Sorry. Here, let me get that off you.”

“Nah, it’s okay, baby boy. I like being tied up by you. Though it might be awkward to fight like this. Maybe if you stand me up? I could hop! Fuck, I knew I should have brought the bunny ears. No, good point, don’t wanna be a furry. Though Spidey is basically a furry if you think about it. Maybe he likes his own kind.”

“I’m not a—” Peter sighed. “Do you have a knife?”

“NO, I wanna hop.”

“Not happening. Come on, it’ll be easier than the swords.”

“You wanna use your sword on me?”

“Deadpool.”

“Fine,” Wade whined. “There’s one in my boot.”

“Which boot?”

“Both?”Wade tilted his head, making quite a picture still wrapped in web. “Yeah, both. Probably. Or maybe neither.”

“Right.” Peter rolled his eyes behind the mask, and knelt down to check the right boot. Deadpool burst into giggles and wiggled away. “Oh, for—” Peter caught his ankle and held it still while he dug around in the boot and pulled out a knife. Wade inhaled sharply and his laughing fit faded. “How on earth do you get that out in a fight?”

“With much more finesse, but you might have me beat in sexiness. Maybe.” 

Peter eased the knife under the webbing and slid it through gingerly, careful not to slice Wade as well. Wade held his breath as Peter passed over his chest and freed him. When the knife cut through the last strand and the webbing had fallen away, Wade just stared at him, so Peter reached out a hand to pull him up. Wade jumped at the gesture and stared at his hand a moment before taking it. 

His grip was warm when Peter pulled them both to their feet. Before he could break the silence—silence and Wade didn’t get along—his spider-sense jangled an alarm and the door opened. Wade snatched the knife out of his hand and thrown it without looking. The man who’d just stepped in went down with a cry of pain.

“Deadpool!”

“What? He’ll be fine!”

“It’s a government building. I hardly think that everyone here deserves being knifed.” 

The man on the floor rolled up a bit, panting harshly and cradling an arm with a knife in the shoulder. Peter had to admit he would probably recover. Wade hadn’t even hit the lung by the look of it. 

“Target is here. I repeat, target is here. One other hostile accompanying.” Wade gestured to him, as if to say “See?”, and Peter sighed and webbed the man.

“Yeah, yeah.” Wade stole his earpiece ,and Peter pretended not to notice the kick. “But which of us was the target?”

“Who knows? Government people are evil, Spidey.” Wade nodded wisely. “Haven’t you seen any young-adult-dystopian-books-heavily-dependant-on-love-triangles-turned-into-movies movies lately? He practically told you, ‘May the odds be ever in your favor.’”

“He didn’t say anything! And he doesn’t have enough hair to be from the Capital.”

Wade studied the balding man intently. The man whimpered. “District 12?”

“Well, he’s no Katniss, but he could be a coal miner.” They walked out the door, stepping over (or on) the man, and Wade nodded to the left. Peter followed without question.

“Definitely not love interest worthy though,” Wade said.

“For sure.”

The hall was empty and dark, but Peter had no trouble seeing. They’d almost made it to the end when his senses alerted him again, and this time he snagged Wade and webbed them up to the ceiling in a corner.

“Fuck Spidey, not so soon after the ceiling sex talk, I can only take so much,” Wade whispered, so softly Peter probably wasn’t supposed to hear. “Yeah, I know that’s not why, I hear them coming too, but you have to admit it’s close and personal up here. You’re totally thinking it, White. Yes, I know he’d never—Oh shut up with the songs already Yellow. Black Widow is appropriate really yes, but—”

High heels echoed in the hall, and Wade shut up, which Peter was inordinately grateful for. The woman who’d stood over Wade and  _ laughed _ was scurrying briskly down the hall in a white lab coat after another woman, who strode down the halls in a conservative suit and wicked looking pumps. 

“The target is here, and this time we must be prepared. I will  _ not _ tolerate another failure,” the new woman said. “You were right there, and just let him slip through your fingers.”

“The mess would have made any sample unusable. I’m just as upset by that bungling as you are. We weren’t ready.”

“I don’t want your excuses; I want results. The window of time is limited.”

“I  _ know _ , but if you hadn’t set things in motion before I was ready—” Wade’s target was interrupted by a glare. They were right under them now, and Wade was squirming. 

“Shh, wait” Peter breathed, and Wade froze in his arms.

“Are you saying this is  _ my _ fault?”  The question was calm, but it held so much promise of danger that Peter had to hold back a shiver. This woman was trouble. They reached the elevators and pressed the down button.

“I don’t see why I need to be the bait. I’m not exactly expendable.”

“If you think that you’re more naive than I thought. I have to go across town, but if there isn’t a promising report by tomorrow, you’ll find out exactly how expendable you are.” The elevator beeped as if on cue, and Peter was impressed despite himself. He was used to villains with a flair for the dramatic, but this woman had style.

“Classy,” Wade said after the doors had shut, and Peter scowled as the scientist whipped her head around to stare at them.

“Can you not get the concept of stealth? Is it too complicated?” He shot a web at the woman, but he missed by a hair. She ran back in the direction she came from. 

“Aww, c’mon, baby boy, you’re taking away like 75% of my fun tonight. I deserve a little.” Peter wondered what it said about him that that argument was actually persuasive, despite (or a little because of) the petulant tone. Wade  _ had _ been good. 

He let them both drop to the floor, and they gave chase. The walls opened up around them, and familiar-looking robots began pouring out. Unlike the ones from earlier in the week, these had lasers instead of saws.

“Oh, upgrades!” Wade said. “I fucking hate it when they learn.” 

“I’ll agree with—” Peter hissed in pain as a beam grazed his arm”—that.” Wade immediately turned to him, ignoring the robot that was aiming for him. Peter ignored the stinging of the burn and tackled Wade. They avoided the beam, and Wade dragged them both back up. 

“You okay, baby boy?” Wade drew his katana and sliced through the nearest robot. Peter webbed three together and flipped in the air, avoiding a couple more beams as he danced around the robots. Two hit each other as they aimed for him, and he grinned.

“Yeah, it’s just a flesh wound.”

“Only I get to quote the Black Knight, Spidey, c’mon.” Peter laughed.

He shot a web up to the ceiling and pulled Wade out of the way of several laser beams. He’d been hit a few times based on the holes on his suit. The robots were appearing faster than they could take them out, and Peter flipped, taking them both out of the way of the barrage of laser beams.

“I don’t supposed you ignored me and brought deadly weapons.”

“Is that even a question?” Peter could see the grin through Wade’s mask this close up, and he shook his head fondly.

“Good.” 

Wade studied the robots below them, letting Peter take over dodging but never moving out from in front of him. 

“Oh, good idea! Let me just load up.” He drew his two favorite guns and checked the ammo. He hadn’t even bothered to load rubber bullets as he just nodded to himself, and Peter rolled his eyes. “Okay, Spidey, super bowling combo!”

Peter looked at him doubtfully. “Are you sure, Wade?”

“Absolutely.” Wade somehow conveyed batting his eyelashes with the mask covering his face. “I’m very good with balls. Or being a ball. Or having a ball.”

“Right. Sorry I asked.” Peter mentally lined up the shot. “You’re going to get hit, you know.”

Wade scoffed. “‘Tis but a flesh wound.”

Peter laughed at that. “You do do it better.” 

“Of course I do.”

“Fly true.” 

“If you eat flies, I’m happy to be one, baby boy!” Peter tossed him with a shake of his head. He swung after him, but there wouldn’t be much to clean up. Wade mowed them down, not ever looking where he shot, and every single bullet hit, sometimes tearing through more than one robot.

Wade got hit several times, while Peter was watching, but he didn’t wince or let up the barrage of bullets. There was soon not a single robot left, and Peter once again was stunned at just how  _ good _ Deadpool was at violence. Before Wade could smash into the ground, Peter swooped in and caught him.

“My hero,” Wade said, swooning dramatically, and Peter had to laugh as they started sprinting after the woman.

“I should be saying that to you. You obliterated them.”

“ _ And _ I won this time.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I only let you win to help out your pride from last time.”

“Sure,” Wade drawled. “You’re not a sore loser or anything.”

Peter heard a soft noise from behind the door they’d just past, and he whirled back around, webbing Wade back as well.

“You’re so domineering, Spidey. I like it. Always jerking me—I can’t even finish that. I’m just going to stop there.”

“She’s in here.”

They burst through together, only to slam into a wall only a couple meters in. 

“Aww, Spidey, that was mean!”

A metal door dropped down behind them with heavy clunk, completing the metal box they were in. 

“Fuck, they aren’t going to squish us are they? You seem pretty squishable, Webs. And really the whole walls are closing in thing is so overdone. Like once the brilliance of the trash scene in  _ Star Wars _ happened, why should anyone else even bother? It’s just going to suck in comparison.”

“I don’t think the walls are closing in,” Peter said, though it did  _ feel _ like it. He couldn’t hear anything though, and he thought the suffocating feeling might just be from being stuffed with Deadpool (and weapons) in a 6 ft cube. 

Then a small hole opened in the ceiling, drawing both their eyes.

A bomb dropped down. Their eyes met for the barest moment, which seemed to stretch out into infinity, and then they burst into motion.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on [my tumblr](http://www.lunarshores.tumblr.com) if you want to say hi!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, thank you for all the support!! Your comments all made me smile so much, and I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this story! 
> 
> A massive thanks to [ImperialMint](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperialMint), who stayed up to beta this for you guys!!
> 
> **Yellow is bold** and _White is italics_
> 
> **Chapter warnings:** Pain meds are taken that aren't prescribed but used in moderation and appropriately. Also inappropriately shaped pancakes because ofc

Peter barely had time to shoot a web at the device, sticking it to the other side of the room before Wade tackled him to the floor, pressing him into the wall. An arm kept Peter’s head from cracking against the floor, and the breath whooshed out of him.

Peter was just about to gripe when the world exploded into light and fire and silence.

He dragged himself out of unconsciousness inch by inch, like walking through quicksand. The first thing that registered was pain, of course—pain was always the first to come back. He allowed to slide along his nerves, registering that he hurt _everywhere_ , including places he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before. A heavy weight made breathing even more difficult than the several broken ribs.

His hearing was shot and would be for at least a few hours, but warm fluid slid along his skin, and his eyes flew open. A knife of pain lanced through his head in protest of seeing. The room was empty and unchanged apart from the scorch marks and the blood. Part of him registered the door had opened, but the importance of the blood lodged in his head.

“Wade,” Peter tried to say, but all that came out was a croak. Or that’s what it felt like, because his ears were stuffed with cotton. He wriggled his arms out from under Wade, gasping as each movement brought fresh pain to the surface. It had been awhile since he’d gotten this beaten up. He shook Wade gently by the shoulders, expecting protests because if he was in any shape like Peter that would hurt like a mother hugger.

His hands slipped in the blood, and his eyes widened at the pulverized mess he felt through his gloves.

“Wade,” he said, and he was pretty sure that he made noise that time—he felt vibrations in his throat—but it was sinking in there was no one to hear it.

Wade was dead.

Peter took a very shallow breath and rolled Wade off him gingerly. They had to—he had to get them out of here before more robots showed up. Wade needed to heal, and he needed to sleep for a few hundred years. And probably stitches, he decided, looking down at himself.  Most of the blood was Wade’s, but he was sliced up good on his left leg, and there were burns everywhere Wade hadn’t managed to cover him.

All that could wait though. He had to get them up and needed to bring Wade with him. He wasn’t honestly sure how he managed that, but he was nothing if not determined, and it wasn’t like the weight was a problem really. That left him with the problem of carrying Wade out of here. He would need both hands to get them to somewhere safe. It was going to be hard enough to web sling across the city with weight in his current state with both arms much less with only one.

His web shooters were still working thankfully, and he could make some sort of sling. Raising his arms nearly had him blacking out, and Peter breathed slowly, his breath vibrating weirdly in his head. He was moving too slowly. They could come back at any time. A shallow long breath, just until his ribs really started to protest, and he twisted shooting web out behind him and catching it to weave a sling. On the third try he managed to tie Wade to his back.

Okay. Next, he needed to get them out, and... where.

Wade’s apartment. A roof wasn’t going to cut it, not tonight.

Peter almost fell with the first step. He gritted his teeth and kept them upright, despite his left leg threatening to crumple. He crossed the hall and went into the first room on the exterior of the building, focusing on one foot in front of the other and ignoring the unnatural coolness of the weight against his back.

Reaching the window felt like an insurmountable goal, but he did it before any alarms went off. He would like to think he punched through it, but it was more of a stumble and fall, and he found himself a little glad that Wade was unconscious.  

His ribs screamed as he caught them with a strand of web and started on their way home. He breathed out, let the pain wash over him, and pressed forward. It must have been only ten minutes, and he skipped any unnecessary acrobatics, but it seemed much longer by the time he was counting windows on Wade’s building.

He found the right one, webbed it open, and swung them both in with barely any clearance. As he collapsed to the floor, his lips twitched into a smile, because Wade would think that entrance was fucking awesome.

 

* * *

 

 

Wade came to with a groan. Dying was never fun, but he hated when he had to regrow a whole bunch of skin. Made him itch all over. He tried to move and found he couldn’t. Not because he was missing limbs or anything, like usual, but he seemed to be tied up.

**Kinky!**

_Please tell me you haven’t forgotten why it’s bad to be tied up by scientists._

“Gotta point there,” Wade said as he opened his eyes. To a lot of red. He blinked but still all he could see was red, with little black lines, and he frowned, blinking his eyes to make sure they were whole and functioning because damn, eye and head injuries could make you see some weird shit.

_It’s Spider-man, you idiot._

**SPIDEY!!!!**

Wade’s eyes widened, and he instinctively tried to scramble away—he was _laying_ on top of Spider-man—, but again he was stopped. He looked down, jaw dropping when he saw he was _webbed_ to Spider-man. Which meant _Spider-man_ had tied them together.

“Holy shit.”

**I told you it was kinky.** **** And fuck if that didn’t give him a thrill before he remembered how exactly he’d died.

“Oh, shit, are you okay, Spidey?” Wade’s heart clenched when he realized that despite laying on top of Spidey he couldn’t feel him breathing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, we got exploded.”

_He got us home though_ , White pointed out, and Wade looked around and saw it was right.

“Fuck, baby boy, you didn’t have to do that. Knife, knife, knife...” Wade reached for his other boot, but he did not have the flexibility enjoyed by certain spider-themed superheroes.

_You probably killed him already. You should have just shot the woman earlier._

**You can’t unalive, Spidey! Maybe a little knife play, or oh, he’d look fantastic deepthroating a pistol... but he can’t now because you killed him!**

“Shut up, shut up, shut up, not helping, you’re the one who _told_ me,” Wade muttered and caught a hold of the back of his leg and ripped it back so he could get his knife. “OW, MOT—gotcha, okay, let’s get you out of here, baby.”   

He sliced them free and rolled off Spider-man. He immediately knelt at Spidey’s side, fingers searching for a pulse with shaking fingers.

_It’s all your fault_ . _You weren’t even good enough to be a blast shield._

“No, no, no, no, no,” Wade said, screamed, mouthed, he didn’t even know. His fingers finally settled at the right point, and oh god, was that blood his or Spidey’s, please let it be his, please him be alive, he didn’t deserve—

A pulse thrummed unsteadily under his fingers, and Wade sagged, relief flooding through him.

**Spidey’s not dead?**

“He’s alive.”

_No thanks to you_ . _Look at how hard he’s having to work to breathe, and you just laid on top of him like a useless lump._

“I was an useless lump at the time!”

_Still are._

**Oh, buuuuuuuuuuurn. Walked right into that one. High five, man.**

_I’m not touching you. Idiocy might be contagious._

“Could you both shut up if you’re not going to be useful?! I don’t remember any first aid, fuck.” Surprisingly, they complied, and Wade gingerly flipped Spider-man over. His suit was ripped along his legs where Wade hadn’t managed to keep him safe. Blood oozed sluggishly from his left leg, and Wade took a deep breath. There were burns, but most of them weren’t too bad, and Spider-man did heal... the breathing would be from heat damage or ribs, neither of which was in his purview.

He ran his hands carefully along Spidey’s chest,—

**Mmmm, yes.**

—feeling along his ribs. Two were definitely broken and one might be.

But he knew Spidey couldn’t go to a hospital, and he’d seen him refuse help from SHIELD and the Avengers before. So he would have to make do on his own. If Spidey didn’t wake up soon, Wade could always kidnap a doctor and for them to help. Spidey wouldn’t be around to disapprove if he died, and Wade needed him to be okay, even if he hated him for kidnapping people.

_The cosplay creation center in the spare room has cotton thread and needles. You can use that and a bottle of vodka. Maybe a cleanish cloth?_

Wade nodded and jumped up. When Spidey was as fixed up as he could be, Wade knelt down and gathered him in his arms as carefully as he could. Luckily, he’d changed his sheets when hiding the body pillow in the closet, so he laid Spider-man in his bed.

**Yes. I approve.**

_It’s just so he can heal. He wouldn’t voluntarily be in our bed._

**Spoilsport. And he did come here for safety.**

_He probably just didn't want us to know where he lived._  

“As long as he wakes up, it doesn’t matter, does it?”

The silence was answer enough, and Wade headed to the kitchen. Healing factors took up a lot of energy, and he could refuel and make Spider-man a home cooked meal to wake up to. When the tacos were done, he checked on Spidey (for the dozenth time in the hour since he’d woken up, but who was counting) and decided that the sound of him breathing (shallow and strained still) was the best thing he’d ever heard.

**Let’s google how to set ribs or whatever.**

Wade blinked. “That’s—that’s weirdly smart. You feeling okay, Yellow?”

_I never thought to see the day. Why didn’t_ you _think of that, big guy?_

“Why didn’t you?” Wade snapped back and began to research. It seemed you couldn’t set ribs (why was this so complicated for other people, damn), just take drugs and hope for the best.

**We can do drugs!**

Wade was already crossing to the window, snagging a really beautiful semi-automatic on the way.

“Hey, shithead!” he yelled down to the man predictably on the corner. There was always a man on the corner in this neighborhood, and Wade was just glad for once they would be helpful. The dealer spun around, looking for the source of the voice, and Wade rolled his eyes. “Yeah you, you idiot. Been dipping into your own wares too much? Not the way to climb the ladder, man. Anyway, I just need you to do me an eensy-weensy favor, m’kay?”

“Fuck off, and shut the fuck up.”

Wade fired off a shot at the man below, two inches from his right foot. The dealer fell in his surprise, and Wade grinned.

“Holy shit man, what the fuck?! I didn’t do nothin’ to you.”

“Yes, but you weren’t listening. I need an attentive audience, you know. An interactive one even. Do you have your listening ears on?” The man nodded, scrambling back on his hands. and Wade could hear his whimpering from here. “Good because you won’t make it to that alley you’re eyeing before I shoot you, and it will be hard to lure a new dealer here with your body scaring them all off. You don’t want to be responsible for that, do you?”

The dealer shook his head vehemently.

**This is the most fun we’ve got to have in forever!**

_Kinda pathetic, really. We’re whipped, and he’s not even putting out._

“It’s not about that,” Wade said, “though I wouldn’t say no to tapping that sweet, sweet ass. I mean have you seen that?”

“Um, yes?” the dealer guessed, and Wade drew on all his willpower to keep from shooting him. This bullet was only an inch away from his foot this time. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I was guessing, I don’t know what you’re talking about man!”

“Right, now you’re going to come up here and bring me pain killers. A lot of them. Good ones. I don’t know what ones are good, and I certainly can’t pronounce them, but you’re in the business. You know what I mean. And you’d better get it right, because I sure the fuck can Google, you understand me?” Wade squinted at him. “I’m sorry this is rude. I’m Deadpool. You might have heard of me, being on the wrong side of the law. Better than being on the wrong side of the sheets. Or is that good?”

**Nothing having to do with sheets could be that bad.**

_You’re hopeless_

“Whatever, fuck if I can remember, but I do like being between the sheets. Anyway, I got distracted. What was I saying?”

_You were remembering your manners!_

“Oh!” Wade spread his arms, the gun waving lazily. “What’s your name? I’m going to call you Fred, okay Fred? Do you understand, Fred?”

“I, ah—I’m sorry, Deadpool, sir—I don’t have any of that on me.” Fred seemed to realize how much that was not ideal for him. “B-but I can get some! Real soon! You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

**Oh, we got a runner! Just kill him. It’s New York, you won’t scare of the others with just one dead dealer.**

_What does that say about our neighbors._

**That they mind their own business.**

“Oh, I think I will, Fred.” Wade let his voice drop down. “Very well, if you are ill-supplied, you have one hour. Apartment number 513. But Fred?”

**It’s a good thing Fred wore the brown pants today.**

“Ye-yes, sir?”

“If you’re not back in time, I will find you. I don’t need whatever your lame real name is. I don’t need to be be able to see your face clearly because I am damn good at what I do. I will find you, and you’ll _wish_ I’d shot you because I can be very creative, Fred. And not just excelling at custom cosplay sewing. Are we clear Fred?”

Fred nodded weakly.

“Good, now was that so hard? You should have seen your face, man,” Wade laughed and brought the gun inside, and Fred relaxed ever so slightly, even chuckling. Wade started to turn away, then looked back. “Oh, and Fred? I’m not real good with time, and can be very impatient, so I suggest you hurry.” Fred ran out of sight.

**Bets on whether he makes it back?**

_He’s not making it back._

“Oh, c’mon, White. Give Fred a little credit. It can’t be that hard to find some drugs. We could do it if we didn’t have to nurse our baby boy back to fighting health.” Wade stopped mid-stride. “Well, fuck me to next Tuesday, I was so worried about Spidey, I forgot the most important thing to making sure he gets better!”

_The sight of you in a slutty nurse’s outfit is more likely to make him want to shuffle off this mortal coil._

**Join the invisible choir.**

Wade tightened his lips. “We’ll wear it over the suit. It will be just what he needs!”

**Mmmm, maybe he has a kink for that.**

“Everyone has a kink for slutty nurse outfits, Yellow. And the pretty stockings!”

_Is this really the time to play dress up?_

“We got nothing else to do but wait for Fred and try to not creepily stare at Spidey like some kind of teenaged vampire.”

_Is he still teenager if he’s like 100 years_ _old or whatever._

“Shut up and stop pretending you don’t know he was 86 years older than Bella.”

_You admitting you know that is the sad thing_ . _Of course you’re also an immortal being with skin issues and hear voices so maybe you identify too much?_

**SPARKLES**

“Well, we’re not sinking to vampire stalker levels. I have standards. Now where did we put the wigs?”

Fred came back not long after Wade had finished changing, knocking so softly Wade almost didn’t hear it over Yellow and White arguing. He’d gaped at Wade’s outfit, shoved a paper bag at him, uttered a few incomprehensible syllables, and ran.

**We’re so hot Fred couldn’t stand in our presence.**

“Or he was too scared to let me see him _stand_.”

_Or maybe he was just scared._

“Either way is good.” Wade googled the names of the various drugs Fred had so thoughtfully provided and whistled. “Fred did good. A nice sampler pack.”

Wade hustled over to the window and opened it. “Thank you, Fred! I owe you a high five my man!”

Something like a “please no” could be heard from the street, but before Wade could decide if he should take offense or not, a groan came from his bedroom. Not the fun kind, but the oh-fuck-I-hurt-all-over kind, which was understandable, if disappointing.

**It will change when he sees us in our outfit!**

_We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t run away screaming like Fred. Well, whimpering._

“Give Fred his due. He’s a good whimperer.”

**Made it more fun! I like Fred, he gets into the spirit of things. I’d give a lot to know if Spidey is a good whimperer though.**

“We could help him practice.” Wade shook his head. “No, stop distracting me, he needs medicine!”

Wade grabbed a cleanish glass and filled it up with water and took it, a plate piled high with tacos, and the bag of drugs to the bedroom.

“Spidey! Are you awake? Are you okay?”

Spider-man groaned again, and Wade hurried over. “I am, but I don’t think I want to be, and what do you think?”

“I brought presents!”

“I don’t need presents.”

“I got percocet, oxycodone, dilaudid, other things, hmm _that’s_ not legal or probably good for you...” Wade tossed that one to the side before handing Spidey the drugs. Spider-man blinked at the drugs that were shoved at him. He set the glass of water and plate of tacos on the nightstand—well, the stack of empty pizza boxes he used for a nightstand. It wobbled alarmingly, but decided to hold.

“Wade, where did you—never mind I don’t want to know. Thank you. I guess.” Spider-man took a couple deep breaths and levered himself up. Wade reached out to help him.

_He doesn’t want you to touch him idiot._

**Touch him! Grab his ass!**

Wade snatched his hands back and put them behind him. “Fred took care of it for me.”

“Who’s Fred?”

“He is a drug dealer. We met this evening. It was a touching tale of friendship and heartwarming fluffy wholesome goodness. We haven’t known each other long but our bond is eternal.”

Spider-man looked at him dubiously. “Is Fred—what kind of drug dealer is named Fred?—alive?”

“And unharmed even!”

_Terrified maybe._

“That just gives him more character!”

“I’m not even going to ask,” Spider-man said and took another deep breath. “Thank you, Wade.” He paused and did a doubletake and finally noticed the costume. “What _are_ you wearing?”

Wade pirouetted so Spidey could see his whole costume. “You needed nursed. I even stitched you up!”

“I’m glad I slept through that.”  Spider-man rolled up his mask and tossed back two pills, which didn’t seem like nearly enough considering he had a healing factor too, even if it was a lame one.

_Goody-goody._

**I think it’s adorable!**

_You would._

“You should eat,” Wade said, shifting from foot to foot. He knew his tacos were good dammit. It still made him grin when Spider-man all but inhaled them.

“Those were amazing, Wade. You could really stand some variety in your diet.”

“Thanks! My own secret recipe.”

“Wow... I wouldn’t expect you to know how to cook.”

“That’s fair. I can only make tacos and pancakes. But they are the best damn pancakes in the world.”

There was a moment of silence, and Wade took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, baby boy.” Spidey hadn’t rolled his mask back down, so Wade looked down at the floor.

Spider-man looked up at him. “For what?” he asked dubiously.

“I got you hurt. And I couldn’t even keep you safe when I was right there. I walked us right into that trap. I didn’t kill that lady _either_ time I was going to, and this morning I could have done it real easy, but that would have upset you, so we didn’t and...”

Spider-man swung his legs out of bed, wincing, and stalked over to Wade, who backed up until he hit the wall. Spider-man pointed at him.

“No. You don’t get to apologize.”

“I’m sorry?” Wade said, his voice coming out more like a squeak than he prefered.

**This is soooooo going into the spank bank. Get him to pin you to the wall!**

“You saved my life in all probability tonight. None of the rest was your fault. I am responsible for my own actions.” Spider-man was way too close, and Wade was going to explode soon—he could see Spidey’s lips, luscious, kissable, and right there, and stubble from not shaving in a couple days, and fuck, the bottom half of someone’s face had no business being that hot, dear lord that jaw could be sculpted out of marble by a master—but just as he was considering how rude it would be to shove through the wall to get some air, Spider-man backed away.

And he _smiled_. For Wade, at Wade.

_You’re pathetic._

**Damn, but he is fine, and he loves us!**

_Aaaand, you’re even more pathetic._

“And never apologize for not killing someone, especially because of me,” Spider-man said, and fuck, his grin was even more gorgeous.

“Now, weren’t we going to watch something?” Spider-man’s grin faltered, and something in Wade’s heart broke at its loss. “I mean, if that’s still cool.”

_He...he’s not self conscious, is he? He can’t be worried about his welcome with_ us. _That’s just not possible._

**Hug him NOW or I WILL figure out a way to kill you.**

“Damn, that’s adorable.” Spidey’s lips tightened, and how had Wade ever thought the mask was expressive? His spider practically was an open book, and he couldn’t even see his eyes. “Baby boy, you couldn’t be more welcome here, any time, any reason. At the moment, I’d have to argue at you leaving in your condition. You should probably get some more sleep though.”

**Mmmm, I bet he has expressive eyes too. They’re probably soft and warm right now, maybe uncertain. BUT even better would be when he’s yelling, and his eyes snap at you. Rowr. He’d pin you down with that strength of his and—**

Wade cleared his throat and squirmed a bit.

“Need the pills to kick in before sleeping.”

The smile was back now on Spidey’s face, but it was more tentative, and Wade resisted testing out his whimpering skills. He would have totally shown up Fred, and that would just be rude after he’d been so obliging.

“So _Golden Girls_?” Spider-man asked.

“You’re in for a treat, baby boy.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Golden Girls_ was pretty good, much to Peter’s surprise. Almost too good. Wade eventually decreed after two episodes it would have to wait until Peter had healed more because he hadn’t taken nearly enough painkillers for laughing that hard.

“It hurts, but it’s good to breathe deeply,” Peter said when Wade stopped it, and Wade’s mask eyes narrowed.

“That makes no sense, baby boy.”

“Well, if you don’t breathe normally with a broken rib you can get pneumonia. It’s not pleasant, trust me.”

“People are so fragile. I forget that sometimes.” Wade turned to him fully, obviously watching his chest, and Peter obediently took a deep breath before he realized what he was doing. “Wait, this sounds like experience.”

“It’s hardly the first time I’ve broken a few ribs. They’ll be fine in a few days.”

“You say that like it’s fast.”

“Well, I think they take weeks for most people.”

“Ridiculous.” Wade was still watching his breathing intently, and Peter rolled his eyes because he couldn’t even remember the number of times he’d had broken ribs in ten years of being Spider-man, but he’d only gotten pneumonia _once_ . He was having time connecting the Wade who hovered like a helicopter-parent version of a mother hen over basic injuries and the Deadpool he’d spent a lot of time hating or at least seeing as a pest. The nurse outfit he still wore didn’t help. Peter was pretty sure nurses had never worn stockings like _that,_ not to work at least.

“Yeah, taking time to heal. What losers.”

“That makes you one too, Spidey. Just less of a loser.”

“By that scale you and Wolverine should be besties. You’d be so cute together.”

“...Yeah, point taken. I will cease the mocking.”

“What are we watching now?” Peter asked, when Wade just absently fiddled with the remote.

“Oh, er you are staying? I thought you had to leave early, and it’s past midnight.”

“If that’s okay with you, I’ll just crash here tonight? I’m not going to classes tomorrow. Backpacks are killer on the ribs, and I don’t feel like slinging across town right now. Once was enough.”

“You... wanna stay the night? Of course it’s okay! I mean I can get you a cab if you’re feeling trapped, you don’t have to stay but OH-EM-GEE please stay I beg you, you can have the bed.”

Peter smiled, and when Wade’s eyes focused on it, he realized he’d left his mask rolled up to his nose this whole time. His hand started to raise, but there wasn’t much point. It wasn’t like Wade and he would even meet if he were out of costume, and if they did, he doubted his chin would give away more than his voice.

“Well, we can’t watch anything too funny. You’re not allowed to have funny anymore. Or scary. No gasping, even if you’d totally be welcome to cuddle up to me if you got scared and—”

“There’s a new SU episode out I think,” Peter said, and Wade titled his head quizzically.

“SU?”

“ _Steven Universe_?” At Wade’s blank look, Peter’s eyes widened. “Oh, it’s your turn for being educated, Wade. Get ready to cry your eyes out.”

It turned out that rewatching _Steven Universe_ from the beginning wasn’t particularly good for broken ribs either, but Peter was pretty sure broken ribs just sucked no matter what was on tv. Crying under a mask was just unpleasant, though, but Wade never rolled his up an inch, even through his sobbing.

Peter’s eyes began drooping not long after they started from the drugs, and it felt like only a minute before Wade was nudging him.

“M’awake,” Peter mumbled.

Wade laughed softly. “Sleepy-Spidey might be the most adorable version yet. C’mere, baby boy. Let’s get you to bed. Up you get.”

Peter whined, and Wade huffed out a sigh. “Fine, Spidey. Oh, Yellow’s going to get a kick out of this.”

Arms slid under Peter, and he relaxed into them, leaning his head on Wade’s chest.

“Let’s get you to bed, baby boy.”

 

* * *

 

 

Wade didn’t sleep at all with Spider-man the next room over, not after he’d curled up so easily in his arms, like he trusted him.

He also neither pulled out the trusty unicorn nor creepily watched Spider-man sleep.

He did take a cold shower, carefully avoiding the mirror.

And clean the entire apartment apart from his bedroom. Twice.

He finally settled down to watch more _Steven Universe_ until the sun was starting to rise, and he could start breakfast, humming as he mixed his famous (or it would be if he made it for anyone besides himself with any regularity) pancake batter. He rolled up his mask enough to try the batter to test the ever important level of sugar. Pancake batter is no good though, and he wrinkled his nose.

“Really, Wade, _Bulletproof_?” Spider-man’s voice was still rough with sleep, and Wade was struck with the image of Spider-man sleepily snuggling into his chest.

**Damn, I bet he has sex hair.**

_He has mask hair of course._

**Still hot as fuck.**

Wade nodded to the voices and grinned at Spider-man. “It’s not like it’s not true? And catchy.”

_Your mask._ Wade froze, but Spider-man made no sign he’d noticed. His was still rolled up as well, and Wade yanked it down.

**YUS, a step toward kissing!**

_He’s not going to want to kiss us_ now. _He almost certainly saw a little._

“Have you ever noticed that pancake batter tastes terrible compared to pancakes, but cookie dough is the pinnacle of culinary achievement compared to cookies?” Wade took a deep breath to continue word vomiting, but Spidey reached past him to wipe a finger down the whisk.

“I’ve never tried pancake batter.”  He sucked his finger into his mouth, and Wade forgot all about his own chin showing earlier. Spidey wrinkled his nose, he could tell from how his lips moved and damn, if that weren’t the most adorable thing to ever have happened.

***swoon***

_He has to have seen... I don’t understand._

“You weren’t kidding.”

“The pancakes will be amazing, I promise.”

“Do we get Mickey Mouse pancakes?” He was actually pouting, and Wade looked back at the pan he was carefully preheating. It was safer.

“Baby boy, you gotta say the TM or they will sue. The author doesn’t have the money for that, she’s in college. Now go sit, and I’ll see what I can do.”

Wade was more than a little distracted when he started on the pancakes, and they didn’t turn out in quite the right shape.

“Wade, you made me dick pancakes.” Spidey was perched on the counter, looking down on his plate and biting his lip when Wade turned back to him. He quickly looked away and added more batter to the pan.

“Well, you can’t miss the TM this way? Here have some syrup and cut them up, you’ll never know. Why did you want to eat poor MickeyTM anyway? Heartless.”

Spider-man took a bite and moaned. “These are darn good Wade. You weren’t lying about making the best pancakes.” Wade grinned under his mask as Spidey shoveled another bit into his mouth then continued. “Because cannibalism of the most disturbing sort if better than eating a poor representation of a cartoon character.”

“I rather like eating dicks personally. Don’t knock it until you try it, baby boy.”

**Yay for subtle wooing!**

_That’s about as subtle as a bag of bricks to the face._

**Well, I would have gone for, “Hey, wanna suck my dick?”.**

_Okay, by your standards that was subtle._

Spidey just laughed a little, though that might have been a hint of blush on his face by the edge of the mask. Wade dished himself up some pancakes before putting more on the griddle. His hands hesitated on the edge of the mask, and he took a deep breath and rolled it up quickly to his nose.

_Bad idea. While he’s still eating even?_

“He’s too good to mind,” Wade muttered, and Spidey turned to him, holding out the bottle of maple syrup, and grinned.

“Syrup?”

After consuming a massive quantity of pancakes, all dick-shaped because now they had a theme, Wade wasn’t going to back down, even if they were harder to flip.

After breakfast, Spider-man sighed. “Thank you for everything Wade, but I’d probably better go.”

**Tell him to never go. Stay always. And maybe eat some more dick.**

“I’ll text you when I find out where the target is now?” Wade said instead.

“Yeah, that sounds good. And we could patrol together the day after tomorrow, usual time?”

**He wants to see us again, omg!!!**

_Maybe he’s blind like Daredevil._

“Anytime, you want, baby boy.”

“Cool, see you around then, Wade.”

With that Spider-man flung himself out the window, shutting it behind him gently with web.

“Damn, he’s good.”

_We’re so fucked. Metaphorically because we’re never getting a piece of that. We are so far from deserving him anyway, even as a friend. But we are seriously fucked._

“Totally. Does anyone mind though?”

**Nope! Though literal fucking would be nice too.**

_... No_

“That’s what I thought. Now what are we going to wear on patrol tomorrow?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on [my tumblr](lunarshores.tumblr.com) if you want to say hi!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are absolutely amazing!! Thank you so much for all the support! It really makes my day to hear from you all!
> 
> As always [ImperialMint](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperialMint) was kind enough to beta this, so a big thank you to her!
> 
> **Yellow is bold** and _White is italics_ and when texting [Peter] and {Wade} though I hope it's pretty clear from the context.
> 
> I think you will all like this chapter :D

Sunday at Aunt May’s was something Peter almost never skipped, no matter how busy he’d been that week. He only skipped it for broken bones and exams, and even then, he would try to stop by for dinner. Her house was only twenty minutes away, far less if he took the less conventional route. 

Even so, Peter gave serious consideration to skipping it this week. His ribs were only a little tender, and he was fine to go, but it was still weird talking to her about the other side of his life. But the thought of disappointing her had him out of bed by seven to finish his reading for class before setting off for the market to pick up the traditional eggs for Aunt May. 

He had to go out of way a bit to the big market that had the special brown free range organic eggs, but he took his skateboard instead of the webshooters. He had plenty of time still, and the weather was amazing. The market was packed of course,and Peter grimaced. One day he would have his life together enough to go Saturday night to get eggs. 

It took forever to weave around all the couple who couldn’t decide what kind of fancy cheese to get, and the old ladies inspecting the produce, but Peter finally managed to grab a dozen eggs (why were they always in the back of the store?) and make it to the register to pay. He escaped the store with a sigh of relief and started off toward Aunt May’s.  

He was only a block from the store when he saw him. Wade strode down the sidewalk in full Deadpool costume (did the cops just take one look at him and give up on enforcing the laws on carrying weapons or did Deadpool constantly have to shake them?) towards him, muttering to himself, and Peter smiled, shaking his head.

“Hey, Wa—” He slapped a hand over his mouth. He wasn’t in costume. Wade would not only have no idea who he was, he would be giving up his identity. 

Peter looked at the ground hurriedly, but Wade was too engrossed in the argument in his own head to notice Peter’s near slip. He walked past him without a glance, and while that should have Peter ecstatic—how could he be so stupid? He’d ignored Clint just fine two weeks ago—it just felt... weird.

Peter shook it off and sent his skateboard zooming faster, narrowly dodging the oncoming pedestrians.

“Hey watch it, kid!”

He probably should have used the webshooters today. A tingle of spider-sense fizzled down his spine, and he sighed, kicking up the skateboard and catching it neatly. 

Hopefully the eggs would be okay for a little bit.

Peter dropped down on the front porch of his childhood home absolutely silently.

“Peter, is that you?” Aunt May called, and Peter shook his head with a grin as he opened the door. Sometimes he thought Aunt May might have spider-sense of her own.

“Hello, Aunt May.”

“Peter, dear, you’re late.”

“I’m sorry, Aunt May, but there was traffic and I—”

She glanced back at him from the kitchen counter with eyebrow raised, and Peter smiled sheepishly. He dug through his bag and held up the eggs.

“I brought eggs?”

“Oh, Peter.” Aunt May laughed and took the eggs. “I didn’t even start lunch yet, figured you’d be late.”

“What can I say? I like to be predictable.”

“I suppose it’s something.” Aunt May put a pot on the stove and began bustling about getting sandwich fixings out. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m all better, Aunt May, I promise.” Peter got shooed to a chair when he tried to help. 

She gave him a stern look. “I’m a nurse, Peter; I know broken ribs don’t heal that fast.”

He grinned. “Mine do. Besides it would have been a lot worse without W— Deadpool.”

“How is that going, dear? You seem to be getting along.”

“Yeah, he’s actually weirdly pretty great when he’s not going on a rampage. He definitely saved me that day.”

“Then I owe him my thanks.”

“I think I’ll wait to pass that along,” Peter said as she placed a platter of sandwiches on the table and went back to ladle out the soup.

They were quiet for a few moments while they were eating, before Peter set his sandwich down.

“I saw him today. Wade, I mean.”

“Oh? I didn’t know you went out so early in the morning. Or were even up on Sundays.”  

“No, I mean  _ I _ saw him. While I was walking here.”

“Oh!” Aunt May put another sandwich on Peter’s plate. “Did he recognize you?”

“No, we just passed each other, but I almost called out to him. I never forget not to say hi to people Spider-man knows when I’m me.”

Aunt May hummed and took a sip of her water. “I suppose you must trust him then.”

Peter sputtered.

“I couldn’t possibly trust him!”

“He saved you, right? And looked after you?” Aunt May shrugged. “And he’s always respected your privacy. He’s probably pretty good at tracking people down even if they don’t want to be, found given his profession, but he doesn’t go looking for you, right?”

“Yeah, but he’s—he’s killer, Aunt May?”

“And why should he change if that’s all anyone will ever see him as, Peter?” Aunt May gave him the  _ look _ . The one that made him feel about two feet tall and terribly unworthy. “I thought I taught you better than that, even if it’s what everyone else does.”

“You did, it’s just...” Peter sighed. “I’d trust him with me. I already have, whether I planned on it or not. But I’m not sure I trust him with  _ you _ .”

Aunt May’s eyes widened a moment, then she smiled, teary. “As if you’d ever let something happen to me.”

“Aunt May...”

“No buts. You should trust your instincts and not worry about me. Your instincts have always been good.”

Peter hummed and pretended to consider that. “Only if you stop worrying about me.”

Aunt May chuckled. “Never.”

Peter raised his brows.

“Now, how was your week?” she asked. “Apart from being blown up, that is.” 

Peter sat back and rubbed his eyes, glancing at the clock and sighing. He’d be late for sure (already was by five minutes), but lab work had gone over, and he had too many hours to log these next few months to think of leaving on time. But he was finally done with all the observations, and he sent off a quick text message to Wade (now filed under The Big D because Peter complained the first name was too long).

[Gonna be late. See you in 30?]

He hadn’t even gathered everything up yet before his phone buzzed.

{Ofc! Awww, mean boss, baby boy? I could totes totes take care of that 4 u ; )}

Peter wondered what it said about him that the thought of someone offering to “take care” of his boss made him smile. Especially when the person offering  _ would  _ probably kill them, if Peter asked. But it was a nice sentiment. Probably. If you looked at it right.

[No killing. And no, grad school is just a bitch. I will be all but living at the lab this week.]

He’d hit send before he’d realized he’d given away personal information. He stared at the text for a moment, then shrugged. Aunt May was right. He’d never had trouble remembering not to call out to people he knew in the costume outside of it before. 

The information seemed to shock Wade too because Peter had made it all the way to the exterior door before his phone buzzed with the answer.

{I knew u were a nerd. I’ll have food waiting.}

Peter smiled and headed to the alley he usually changed in by the lab. He pulled his mask out of his bag and stared down at it. The material snagged at his hands as he spread it out. 

He stared at it for a moment, and his phone buzzed.

{I got Chinese for you, even though tacos are clearly superior in every way}

Peter snorted and shoved the mask back into his bag. What more of a confession of friendship was he looking for from  _ Deadpool _ ? He started out of the alley and went toward the subway station.

[Variety is good for you.]

{It’s good you think that because I didn’t know what to order}

[so...?]

{I ordered IT ALL! B) I asked for their cutest delivery boy too, but his ass will have nothing on yours probably}

Peter took the stairs two at a time in a kind of controlled fall downward. He probably would have died from clumsiness if he hadn’t gotten spider powers. Two minutes until the train, so he should be in time. He fidgeted as he waited, listening to music. He wished he could hook something up in his suit, but hearing could be important when crime fighting. It would be so cool to websling across the city with tunes other than Wade’s singing.

By the time Peter reached Wade’s neighborhood, he was late (again). The train had stopped for no apparent reason for ten minutes, and Peter got aboveground to his phone ringing madly.

“Hi, I—”

“Are you okay?”

Peter blinked, then smiled. “Yeah, sorry, I’m walking there now. Less than five minutes.”

“Don’t scare me like that, baby boy. I thought I was going to have to be like Liam Neeson and go rescue my baby. I wouldn’t lose you again though; seriously, that man really shouldn’t be allowed to have people to protect, he loses them more often than I lose explosives. And I do that a  _ lot _ , Spidey, I just found some prime C-4 in the mattress, and last time I did that I totally had to move, it was—wait, did you say  _ walking _ ?” 

“I would have texted, but there was no signal on the train, which was late for no reason. The subway can be such a pain.”

Wade roared with laughter. “Spidey on a train! Is that like  _ Snakes on a Plane? _ I mean, how is that even scary? Like, just shoot them!”

“Most people need the plane not to crash, and bullets are not conducive to that.”

“Fine, catch them and put them in a suitcase if you have to be a humanitarian.” Peter could just picture Wade brushing off the work of that. “If you and I were on that plane, we’d have it taken care of in seconds!”

“It was pretty lame.”

“So you ran out of webbing?” A note of concern threaded through Wade’s jovial tone, and Peter bit back his grin.

Peter cut through the alley that would take him to Wade’s fastest, wrinkling his nose at the smell. “Why do alleys always smell so bad? I mean I know why, but I never get used to it. My webs are fine, thanks, but as I’m not wearing the mask, I took the more conventional route.”

“Oh yeah, can’t be flying through New York maskless, that totally ruins the secret—wait, what?”

Peter huffed out a laugh. “Took you long enough.”

“You’re on your way here.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not wearing a mask.”

“I must have forgot to put it on this morning.”

“Oh, yeah, that totally happens.” Wade had all but deflated, and Peter rolled his eyes.

“That was sarcasm. It’s a form a humor, sometimes too subtle for those of lesser intellect—.”

“Insult me later, baby boy. I’m having hallucinations right now. Of course he’s not really coming without a mask on—I know!—Okay, now that was just unnecessarily rude.”

Peter snorted. “I trust you, Wade. I don’t need the mask until we go on patrol.”

“Oh.”

“Unless you’d rather I we—”

“NO, I WANNA SEE SPIDEY!”

“It’s Peter actually.” There was a moment of stunned silence on the line. “Peter Parker.”

“Peter. Peter. Peter.” He kept going, almost tasting the name, until it was a blur. 

“Yes, that would be me.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s too boring for you. You’re not boring you’re...”

“I hate to tell you, but—” 

“You need a new nickname!”

There was a click, and Peter was jerked back into his surroundings. And that was a gun in his face. Peter rolled his eyes.

“Hands up.”

“Pete? Nah too boring. You’re amazing, for chimichanga’s sake!” Wade hummed in his ear, and Peter adjusted the phone to examine the man trying to mug him.

“Hold on, Wade,” Peter said. “I should deal with this.”

“Really, man? Could you be any more cliche?” Peter asked the man with the gun. Peter took a better look at his would be mugger. “And dude, get out of the the seventies seriously. It’s a new millennium.”

“Shut it, wise guy!”

“Petey! Yes, that’s perfect. I will call you Petey, and you shall be my—Wait, is someone pointing a gun at you?”

“Yeah, you should see his moustache, Wade, it’s like a giant—”

“That’s enough out of you, smart mouthed brat. Hang up the damn phone and hand it over along with your cash.” The man took a swing at Peter (and what was the point of a gun if you were going to use it to hit someone with?), which he dodged easily.

“Oh, c’mon man. You can’t do better any than that?” Peter asked, and the man growled.

“He’s mine,” Wade said in voice Peter hadn’t heard in years. Rough, and deep, and  _ dangerous _ . The line went dead, and Peter looked at the would be mugger pityingly as he slid his phone back into his pocket.  

“You know, I almost feel bad for you,” he said. “It’s completely unfair of Wade to call dibs when he’s not even here, but I gotta respect the dibs. Chaos would ensue if we didn’t have a system, and that’s really the only one I could get him to agree to. You’d have been much better off with me.”

“I’m not scared of you or your fucking boyfriend.” The man spat—for dramatic effect? Peter rolled his eyes—and pointed the gun at him. “You got to the count of three. One.”

There was a blur of red and black behind the mugger.

“Two.”

“I’ll try to keep him from killing you,” Peter said solemnly. 

“Three,” Wade said, a sword pressed to the man’s jugular, and Peter applauded. The man whimpered. 

“Nice dramatic effect, W— er, Deadpool.”

Wade bowed, removing the sword from the would-be mugger’s neck to spread his arms wide. “Thank you, Sp—” He looked up and his eyes widened so much Peter could tell through the mask, and he looked away hastily. 

“It’s okay, Deadpool,” Peter said, shifting from foot to foot.

“Right, yeah, um, okay, I...” Wade looked up again and trailed off. “Fuck, you’re  _ gorgeous _ .”

Peter’s breath caught, and he ran a hand through his hair to rub his neck. “Uh, thanks, I—”

The would-be mugger fired. At Wade thankfully, though it’s not like Peter would let it  _ hit  _ him, so maybe it would be better if the mugger had aimed at him. 

Wade sighed. “We were having a moment, do you mind?” The bleeding from his shoulder was already healing.

The man screamed as Wade broke his trigger finger. Wade looked guiltily at Peter, who’s lips twitched. 

“He broke the moment!” Wade said, as if that was an excuse, but Peter was just glad it was only a broken bone and a finger at that. “Twice really because you were just going to surprise me with this—which, really, baby boy, not you’re best idea, I might have thought you were an intruder—and fuck, I know, look at him!—You shut up first!”

Peter laughed, and Wade stared at him for a long moment, then shook all over like a dog who was unhappy with a sudden bath, before turning to the man who was pleading incoherently, staring at the healed wound in Wade’s shoulder in horror. 

“Can we even  _ have  _ a moment? It’s hardly that dramatic.”

“Sure we can! It’s the manliest, platonic, bro-moment ever. And sure maybe you coming over for Chinese isn’t the most exciting thing—it should be tacos dammit, a day like this deserves tacos—but there was even a gun fight, and I even got shot for you!”

“So what you’re saying is he  _ added _ to the moment.”

Wade paused, mouth open. He tilted his head looking at the man. “I don’t like that. It’s our moment, butt out!”

Wade punched the man in the solar plexus, and he doubled over, gasping for air he couldn’t suck in. 

“Now, I happen to be in a good mood, and Petey here—” Wade paused a moment as if to savor his name again, and Peter shifted his weight. “—Petey doesn’t like unnecessary violence. Isn’t unecessary a fun word? Unec-ess-ess-ess-ary. It’s almost as good as ass- _ ass- _ ination. Mmmm, I do like a good ass. Petey’s ass is the best, don’t you think?”

The man turned pleading eyes to Peter, who decided to take pity on the poor man. He was pretty sure there was no right answer to that. “Wade, I  _ am _ rather hungry. I’m pretty sure the man has suffered enough. Wearing that massive caterpillar on his lips is punishment enough.”

Wade finally noticed the ridiculous mustache and recoiled in horror. “Yikes, I was not ready to meet David Crosby. I think for the first time I’m glad I can’t grow hair anymore, baby boy.”

“That reference is too old, even for us. C’mon, let’s go to your place.” Peter caught Wade’s hand and dragged him away from the man who was already stumbling away. “I’m sure he learned his lesson.”

Wade was stuttering, and Peter turned around to him in confusion. Wade was gaping at their hands, and Peter dropped Wade’s hand like it was molten lava.

“Whoops, sorry.”

“Anytime, Petey,” Wade muttered weakly.

* * *

 

“That was okay,” Wade declared, staring at the remnants of the entirety of the menu at the highest rated Chinese place nearby. Between the two of them they’d managed to eat most of it. “But there are entirely too many vegetables involved.” Wade poked a piece of alien green matter with one of the chopsticks. 

**Tacos are better, but anything to make** **_Petey_ ** **happy!**

_ You’re going to be nonsensical all night, aren’t you? _

**He held our** **_hand._ ** **He trusts us with his face, and his name, and he held** **_our_ ** **hand.**

“I know, it’s too good to be true, right?”

“I thought you thought it was just okay?” Peter tilted his head adorably, a little half smile on his face, and Wade fought against melting. He would not scare Peter off like that.

_ Dude, you talk about his ass constantly. _

**Yeah, but that’s different than melting when he looks at us. With our mask rolled up even! It’s like he doesn’t even notice.**

“The Chinese food was okay. I have to admit, I was expecting more from something called General. Like that shit should be spicy enough to cause mild tissue damage. And don’t even get me started on the Dragon special.”

_ You really think he’s going to be distracted by— _

“Yeah, but this isn’t authentic. You should try the places in Chinatown. Those really can melt your face off.”

_ I stand corrected. Didn’t he say grad school? _

**Our Petey is both smart and easily distracted by conversational tangents.**

_ Big words for you. I’m a bit impressed. _

**Turned you on, didn’t it.**

_....Shut up. _

Wade grimaced as Yellow started singing the milkshake song. 

“Wade?” 

Wade blinked. “Oh, yeah sorry. Distracted by your beautiful face. What?”

“The episode of  _ Golden Girls  _ is over. You wanna clean up and head out?” 

“Do you have to wear the mask?”

Peter raised a brow, and fuck that was hot. “Yes?”

“Then no.”

Peter laughed, and Wade’s heart just about stopped again. He definitely was having heart attacks or something. He should maybe get that looked at. Though, it probably wouldn’t kill him, so it probably didn’t matter.

**It must be truuuuuuue love, truuuuue love.**

_ Nothing else can break your heart like true love. _

**Way to be a downer!**

_ You’re the one that picked the song. _

“I’m going to keep wearing the mask, I’m afraid. You get to be one of... three people that knows what I look like underneath it though.”

“Three?”

**Rivals!**

_ He’d probably notice if they vanished. Or were un-alived. _

“Wait, not even SHIELD knows? The Avengers?”

“Nah, just my aunt and Mary Jane.”

**Mary Jane?** Yellow bristled.

_ The aunt is probably safe, but Mary Jane doesn’t sound like a harmless relative. _

**It would be less suspicious if only one vanished.**

“I don’t see her much anymore.” Peter smiled, a sad, soft smile that made Wade want to punch someone in the face. Preferably this shady Mary Jane character.

**Better that she’s out of the way though.**

_ Even if it makes Peter sad? _

**...**

“A couple other people knew, but they’re dead now. My fault, of course.”

Wade froze, a hand reaching for Peter’s shoulder only to stop. Fuck he needed to say something.

**Want a blowjob?**

_ Not the time. _

**I wasn’t asking you, but if you’re interested...**

“Want a—no—I’m sorry, Peter.” Wade tried to smile at him, but he was pretty sure it looked even less reassuring than Peter’s looked happy. SIlence hung between them, and Wade figeted.

“Your Aunt must be a pretty cool lady.” He blurted out the words finally because he couldn’t take it anymore, and for once he managed to say the right thing because Peter laughed.

“She’s the best. Though I’m pretty sure she looks at questionable fanart of us. For the news of course.” Peter sighed and got up starting to clean up the dozens of Chinese food cartons.

**He knows about the questionable fanart? He’s looked at pictures of us fucking him.**

_ Are we sure we’re awake? This day has been too weird. Yellow used big words. Spidey is all but confessing his love. Stab yourself in the hand to check. _

“He practiced those words to get in your pants,” Wade muttered, and Peter looked at him curiously. Shit, he always forgot Peter could hear much better than most people. He didn’t ask though, so maybe he didn’t hear.

“I’ll clean this up while you get ready.” Peter nudged him as he passed by, a smirk on his lips. “You take forever to gather up all your weaponry, most of which you never use.”

**I wonder if he’s seen that one where we’re in a cheerleader uniform, and he goes down on us in his suit... Remember that one? We rubbed our dick** **_raw_ ** **. I wonder if he saw that one. I wonder if he** **_liked_ ** **it.**

Wade made a series of inarticulate noises, and as soon as Peter had headed to the kitchen, he got out a knife and stabbed it into his hand. Pain shot up his arm, and he glared at his hand before wrenching the knife free. Blood dripped to the already stained carpeting.

_ You’re supposed to be getting ready to patrol. _

Right, he could do that.

Probably.

* * *

 

By the time, Peter had thrown out all the takeout containers, Wade had managed to gather up twice as many guns as usual and exactly no ammo. A fact he didn’t realize until he was clinging to Peter, swinging through the city.

“Fucking hell, I left all the ammo again! Why am I such an idiot?”

**Aww, but I wanted to shoot people.**

“I’ve often wondered that,” Peter said over the wind. “Let me know if you figure it out. And what do you need ammo for anyway? You’re not killing anyone tonight.”

“But what if I  _ need  _ too?”

“You won’t.”

_ You can use your swords. Or an ice cube. A rubber duckie. _

Wade snorted. That time with the rubber duckie was sheer brilliance, if he did so himself. 

**And I got to sing the rubber duckie song without rude interruptions and complaints! It was a good time.**

_ Sesame Street _ _ has a time and a place and generally they have nothing to do with us, with that one exception. _

“Bert and Ernie were so gay.”

“Definitely,” Peter said, and Wade smiled. “Is there any question there?”

“Not from me.” 

Peter tensed under him, and they started swinging with more purpose. “Something on your bug radar, baby boy?” Wade asked, and Peter nodded.

“Something bad.”

“See? I did need my bullets.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine without them still.”

“But maximum effort!” Even Wade could hear the crashes and screams now, and he fiddled with his nearly useless gun.

“It’ll be good for you.” They landed on top of a building with a good view, and Wade released Peter.

“Isn’t that one of yours?”

“Rhino.”

“Why are all your villains animals themed? Did your authors have no originality?”

**I knew he was a furry.**

_ And you still love him anyway. That’s sweet. _

“Er, I don’t know?” Peter said.

“Can I have a line down?” Wade asked looking down on the carnage in the street below.

“You sure? He hits hard, and you’ll have no way to get away fast.” Rhino was already tearing up the street, big chunks of asphalt flying as he charged down the street. Wade wrinkled his nose.

“Yeah, it will be fun.”

_ This is going to hurt so bad. _

**But we’ll get to show off for Spidey!**

_ Or we’ll get squished. He’s right. His mobility is an asset here.  _

**He can swoop in and save us any day.**

“Not today.” 

Wade leaped off the building before Peter could let him down. Peter scrambled to the side though, as his masked face popped over the wall.

He shot a web at Wade, who shivered as it wrapped around him, and attached it to the building before swinging off to draw the Rhino away from people. Wade bounced at the end of the web six feet off the ground, then caught himself before he smashed himself against the side of the building.

“Ha! I am getting better at that,” he said.

**Do the superhero landing!**

“Fuck yeah!” Wade sliced through the web and landed in a perfect crouch.

_ Killer on the knees _ .

**Worth it.**

“Totally worth it. It makes my ass look fantastic, and I have a lot of competition in Spidey’s eyes. His own ass of perfection is  _ normal _ .”

_ Maybe you should climb up more stairs. _

“Shut up, you’ll give the author ideas.”

Rhino was facing away from him, concentrating on Spider-man. He pawed at the ground, getting ready to charge. 

Wade shot him in the back of the head with one of the 12 bullets he had loaded already. It didn’t do anything, of course, but it had him turning around.

He charged at Wade.

**All according to keikaku**

_ Shut the fuck up. _

“Dude, you’re losing all your big word points,” Wade said. He holstered his guns and centered himself in the street. “You’re never going to get laid.”

**Have you looked in the mirror? I am way ahead of you.**

“You’re a box in my head.”

_ So am I, so that’s not really a good argument. I do however have taste, so... _

Wade snorted and drew Bea and Arthur as Rhino drew ever nearer, spinning the blades in a figure eight pattern too fast to be seen.

_ We’re really going to take that face on.  _ White sounded more resigned than questioning, and Wade grinned.

**The things we do to impress the ones we love.**

“I don’t think memorizing the phrase conversational tangents is really on the same par, Yellow.”

**Shows what you know.**

_ It was impressive. _

“Get a room you, two.”

_ Not that impressive and it’s gone further negative with that weeaboo reference. _

**Awwww... you know you love me!**

Rhino was almost upon him now, and Wade ducked under him, sliding—

**Ow, road burn!**

_ You idiot, he’s going to trample us! _

—under his legs, and sliced up towards the stomach. The hide was nearly impenetrable, but his—fuck, what did Weasel call them?—super cool, fancy katana managed to graze him. Rhino screamed and rage, and Wade missed dodging the last foot. Pain exploded in his side.

Rhino couldn’t stop though, scrabbling at the road to turn. Wade struggled to get up.

**Wow, our stomach feels more sloshy than usual.**

“Yeah, I don’t recommend trampling.” Wade grimaced, pressing a hand to his gooey-ish stomach. “That was an utter fail.”

_ It’s better than acid. _

**And we’re not dead so bonus!**

_ That was still a stupid, stupid thing to do. _

Peter dropped down beside him and scooped him up effortlessly, and webbing them to higher ground as Rhino started back, limping slightly and oozing blood, so his efforts weren’t totally worthless.

“Hey, baby boy.”

“Brilliant plan, Mufasa.” 

Wade shivered exaggeratedly. “Less effective than I planned, I admit.” He groaned when Peter set him gently on a rooftop. 

“How about you wait here until your insides are less liquidy, and I’ll take care of him. He’s not very inventive, honestly.” Peter leaped off the roof before Wade could argue, and scrambling up to watch was about the most he could do.

Peter dodged around Rhino, weaving in and out between his limbs, always three steps ahead. Occasionally, Rhino would get close, and once he even managed to get a graze in.

_ Peter let him land that one. _

“You think?”

_ Yeah, in order to hit him, he’d have to be faster, smarter, or less predictable. Peter needed web there. _

**Our Petey is the best** **_._ ** Yellow sighed happily.  **Look at him** **_move_ ** **.**

_ All we got was our insides smooshed.  _

“They’re almost better now.”

_ He doesn’t need our help though, look. _

It was true. Whatever Peter had been weaving web for was now done. He said something too quietly for Wade to make out this far away—

**Betcha it was more sarcasm and maybe an all-wrapped-up pun.**

_ Probably.  _

—and he yanked on the nearest strand. The whole thing snapped, and Rhino was completely enveloped in a cocoon of webbing, wriggling like a fly.

Seconds later Peter flipped onto the roof, grinning under his mask, and just enough out of breath to make his chest heave distractingly.

“I’m sorry I missed the end pun,” Wade said, scrambling to his feet.

“Not my best work, so just as well.” Peter’s eyes were flicking over him, checking he was all healed, and it warmed his heart even though it was totally pointless. He was always okay, after all. 

“Nicely done though, baby boy.”

“Thanks.” Peter rubbed the back of his head. “It definitely helped that he was wounded.”

“Please, give me some credit for sense. I’m insane, not an idiot. That was all you, Spidey.”

Peter opened his mouth to argue (or more likely to tease), but whatever he was about to say was lost as a blast ripped through the city further up north. It lit up the night sky and before the sirens had even gone off, Peter had swung him up on his back and they were off.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have [a tumblr](http://lunarshores.tumblr.com) if any of you are interested!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the wonderful [ImperialMint](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperialMint), so a big thank you to her! FoundthePenguin was also very helpful as my very patient video game consultant. Any inconsistencies or errors are mine because I know nothing about games. Like at all. 
> 
> Yellow is **bold** and White is _italics_
> 
> Chapter warnings: Suicide (though temporary) 
> 
> Sorry for the wait on this chapter! Life has been a little bit crazy, but if you're ever curious about when the next one will be feel free to drop by my [tumblr](http://lunarshores.tumblr.com/)!

This close to the Avenger’s Tower it wasn’t surprising they’d been beaten to the scene, but Peter still heaved a sigh when he heard the roar of Hulk as they webbed uptown.

“Ugh, no fun,” Wade said. “They are such drags, nagging like you but not so pretty.”

Peter snorted out a half laugh. “I’d like to see you tell Black Widow I’m prettier than her.”

“Well, you are, baby boy. She can’t even say anything because she hasn’t seen your  _ face _ .”

“Let’s not do anything to make her want to change that.”

Wade’s hands tightened on his shoulders, barely enough to register. “I don’t mind keeping you to myself, I guess.”

Peter rolled his eyes.

They were nearing the clouds of smoke before Wade spoke again. “I’ll catch up with you, Spidey. Won’t want them to think you’re hanging out with someone as seedy as me.”

Peter didn’t expect Wade to loosen his hold and let himself drop from one hundred feet in the air.

“Wade!” Wade just flashed him a thumbs up as he fell. “That idiot,” Peter muttered.

Peter contorted in the air, cutting himself free, and shooting a web after Wade as he fell, heart pounding in his chest. A flash of another night, another person falling, hit him, but he pushed past it. Tonight was different, and they had a job to do. He shot another web to send them in a slow arc, while Wade blabbered on about something Peter didn’t try to catch. Only when he dropped Wade to the ground slowly before he swung off, breath still a bit shaky.

If Wade wanted to go seperately, Peter would let him, but it was unlikely the Avengers didn’t already know they’d been teaming up. Peter himself had submitted a few pictures of them on patrol, and he was just glad Wade hadn’t connected his name with the pictures in the  _ Bugle _ . 

People streamed out of the building on fire, and Peter dropped through the smoke to land next to Natasha, who was at the doorway, guiding the people out.

“Anything I can do to help?” She didn’t jump despite his landing silently behind her, and Peter mentally sighed. One day he’d get her.

She looked over her shoulder. “We still don’t know the cause. The team is investigating, but they think it might just be a gas line.” She looked at him doubtfully, and Peter fought the urge to scrunch down or stand tall and tell her he was an adult and a fully capable one (even if he hadn’t been when they met). “The building is swaying though. I don’t suppose you could stabil—”

“New York’s two hottest spiders! This must be my lucky day! Yeah, I know I’d sure like to be in the middle of th—” 

“Another word and we’ll find out if you grow a new head from your body or a new body from the head.”

Wade opened his mouth (probably to answer) but snapped it shut when she growled. 

“Get lost Wilson. We don’t need your help. Spider-man, if you could manage to keep the building from collapsing, that would be good. I’ll deal with this.” She waved at Wade, and anger rushed through Peter. 

“He can help, he’s been—”

“Your little charity case is cute and all Spider-man, but you’ll learn soon enough. There’s no saving some people. And he’s at that top of that list.”

“You say that, and yet, I get a call from you or SHIELD all the time. I think you’re just jealous because you’ve lost your touch, while I’m still—

The building moaned with a screech of metal supports giving out, and Peter flipped in the air, shooting up to the neighboring building. He switched his cartridges out for the super strong webbing he’d been using on Rhino and shot a line to the damaged building and attached it to the building he stood on. The web snapped taut, and Peter sent another few lines between them before moving onto the next building. 

Peter repeated this all the way around in a circle, then started on cross pieces to help balance out the forces. He landed on the damaged building when he was done, mind whirling with calculations. The load should be balanced enough across the other buildings, but it was a temporary fix at best. They weren’t built to carry so much extra force, and if a gale went through it would be dicey. But it would do for now until crews could get in and start repairs.

He landed next to Wade in a flip. 

“You make all the gymnasts cry with your landings, Spidey. It’s just not fair you can literally stick them. And have I mentioned how hot it is that you build webs. Is the Spider-cave just full of webs? Do you sleep in one?”

“Wilson, shut up.” Natasha nodded at Peter. “Very nice. Will it hold?”

“Well, I haven’t done any formal calculations, but as long as the wind is under 40 miles per hour, it should be good. Plus or minus a bit because I had to estimate the weight of the building.”

Wade tilted his head. “I never knew nerds could be so hot. It’s just unfair. True, he is a bit clueless in general and also super naive—it could be one of his powers, but I don’t think spiders are necessarily naive—No, I guess I don’t know.”

“I have slept in a web,” Peter said, mostly to shut Wade up, and shrugged when Natasha shot him a look. “They are comfy, what can I say?”

Her head snapped up before she could answer though. Wade muttered arguments to himself about... something to do with unicorns getting caught in webs? 

“Roger, Cap. Yeah, he’s here with his latest charity case in tow.” Natasha paused to listen to her communicator then pulled a face. “Well, that depends on how you define ‘behaving’. You find anything up there?” Peter’s senses screamed in his head just before a screech roared across the city. He webbed Wade to him, scooped up Natasha (God, he was  _ so _ dead), and shot them up the building to wear the explosion had blasted out the wall.

“Weeeeeeeeeee!” Wade yelled, and Natasha clung way more than Peter would have pegged her for. Wade he was used to.  He flipped them into the jagged building, his face inches from the glass and caught them with his toes on the ceiling. Wade sliced off the webbing holding him to his side, and he dropped to the floor.

“Superhero landing!” 

Familiar robots (lasers, saws,  _ and _ some with flamethrowers this time, Peter noted) were bursting out of the hall from where the... missile?... had hit. The Avengers stood at the ready, facing off down the hall. Peter thought if he were a robot, he’d probably run away.

“My communicator is down.” Steve caught his shield one handed and used the momentum to send it right back with a spin.”Stark call Nat and have her bring Spider-man and Deadpool for—” Wade dove right by him, breaking the lines of Avengers, screeching something that sounded a lot like “Yippee Ki Yay, mother fuckers!” 

“We’re already here, Cap.” Natasha sounded a bit windblown, and Peter flipped them both down and let her go, flushing.

“Sorry, I—”

“More slaying of the robots, less talking.”

“Right.”

Peter flung himself after Wade, telling himself he wasn’t fleeing. His spider-sense let him dodge through the crowd of robots, and he shot a line of web to tangle them up. They sliced right through it, and Peter gaped.

“No time to stand about, baby boy!” A thick arm wrapped around him and pulled him out of the way of a laser. 

“But they... they—”

“Yeah, they have learned from our last few encounters, I think.” Peter wrinkled his nose. “That’s adorable, Spidey.” They tumbled out of the way of a burst of lasers, which hit the robots on the other side of them, sending half dozen to the floor in a smoking heap.

“I’m not adorable. And they shouldn’t be able to cut through my webs.”

“I can.” Peter launched himself off Wade’s shoulder and kicked a robot back into two others.

“Well, yeah, but you have special blades, and they couldn’t last time.” Peter nudged Wade out of the way of a laser beam, while Wade shot over his shoulder. 

“Did you miss the flamethrowers? Upgrades.”

A burst of fire washed over them both, and Wade leaped in front of Peter to shield him. He grabbed for what looked like a grenade, but Peter webbed it to his hand before he could pull the pin.

“The building can’t take anymore, and people are still evacuating.” Wade swore and jumped in front of Peter again to take a laser through the shoulder. 

“You okay?”

“I’m always fine.”

“You boys okay?” Steve appeared behind Wade, reflecting a laser off his shield and crumpling another robot.

“I said I’m f—” Wade saluted. “Hello, mon capitaine. We are just peachy. How are you on this fine day?”

There was a roar of pure rage, and half the room cleared as the Hulk grabbed one by the leg, spinning it round and round like a drunken farmer with a scythe.

“Hmmm, effective, but hard to emulate.” Wade stroked his chin.

“Oh, nice Hulk! Hey, Wade distract one for me?” Peter asked. Wade drew his swords and faced off with the nearest robot. He dodged the saw and sliced into a leg. 

“Okay, but I don’t think you’ll be able to—” Peter launched himself off Wade’s shoulder into a flip. At the arc of his jump, he grabbed the robot’s head, twisted with a grunt of effort, and flung them both to the ground, robot now held in the Hulk approved grip for maximum mayhem. “Holy fuck is that hot,” Wade said, a bit breathless from the fight. Peter smirked at him over his shoulder.

“I think we’d better move, Deadpool,” Steve said, and Peter laughed and started spinning as soon as they were out of the way. The robot was heavier than a car, so it took a while build up enough moment—um.

The room was clear in no time, and Peter slowed down, head spinning. Hulk had finished his part and was busy smashing up the remains, while Tony and Nat tried to persuade him to let them keep one to study.

Peter grinned at Wade, panting, who was staring at him, utterly dumbfounded. “I win again! I clearly got more than you.”

This snapped Wade out of his shock soon enough, and Steve quirked a brow. “I think Bruce beat you if those are your standards.”

Peter waved a hand. “Yeah, but the Hulk always wins, so winning after him counts as winning.”

“You cheated, baby boy!” 

“Since when do we have  _ rules _ ?” Peter asked, and Wade raised a finger, thought about it a moment, then deflated. “I thought so. Now what was that lady up to, exploding things with her robots all the way up here?”

“I’m just made they got upgrades. Why didn’t we get upgrades? I would look stunning with a flamethrower.”

“I’m making a rule. No flamethrowers in your possession. Period.” 

Wade whined. “Awwww, no fair, Spidey.”

Steve coughed, and they both turned to him. “You two have run into the same robots before?”

Peter nodded, turning to him. “Yeah twice now. SHIELD should know about the person making them as they hired Wade to kill them.”

Steve turned to Wade, and Peter let out a breath. Reporting to  _ Captain-freakin-America _ always made him feel like he was giving a presentation in school he’d forgotten about until an hour before, no matter how nice Steve was. 

“I didn’t listen to all the babbling. Patches sure can talk a lot.” Wade managed to say this with a hint of petulance but complete sincerity. Steve rolled his eyes to Peter’s delight. 

“I wonder what that is like,” Steve said. He shook his head. “Right, I’ll contact Fury, and we’ll take care of this mess.”

Peter felt rather as if he should salute or something. Wade just did salute, with heels together and everything. Steve almost did it back before glaring at him and turning back.

“If he were my commanding officer back in the day, there would have been no dishonorable discharge. Yeah, I know we’d be dead. Well, you two parasites wouldn’t exist. I would do just fine. I meant if I weren’t dead!” Wade shook himself and looked at Peter. “Well, that was a dismissal if I ever heard one. Let’s blow this popsicle stand. Yeah I know too much. Why do I listen to you, Yellow?”

Peter nodded, and they headed to the gaping hole in the wall.

“Oh, Spider-man?” Natasha, having left Tony to reason with the Hulk (never smart from what Peter had seen, but hey), motioned him towards her. “A word?”

“Soooomeone’s in trooooouble,” Wade sang. “I’ll start home. What’s left of you is invited over for pizza and more  _ Golden Girls _ .” He turned back to Natasha. “Leave his ass intact! It is a work of art. Toodles, baby boy!” He jumped out the building and caught one of Peter’s web strands, sliding over to the next building like a zipline. 

Peter went over to where everyone was gathered, working hard to keep his feet from dragging. Clint winked at him, and Peter smiled weakly. Somehow he was sure Wade had been right. He was in trouble. He was torn between that stomach dropping terror from getting called to the principal’s office and righteous fury. 

“This is about Wade, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is,” Natasha said. “We know you’re capable, but he’s trouble, kid.”

“One, I’m not a kid. Haven’t been for awhile.”

“You were when you started wearing that mask don’t even try,” Clint muttered, and Peter decided to ignore him.

“Two, Wade has been doing great lately! Doubt like this is just what’s going to set him back.”

“He did very well today,” Steve said, and Peter felt a bit lighter. “But he’s done better in the past, and it’s never ended well for anyone.”

“It’s different this time!” Peter forced his hands to relax out of fists. “He deserves a chance to be better.”

“He’s had an awful lot of chances, Spider-man. And you know what he is. I know you’ve seen him, stopped him even,” Tony said, crossing his arms. 

“Well, it’s nice to know you all have made up your minds about him already, but I—”

Natasha threw a jump drive at him, and Peter snatched it out of the air reflexively. “Just because he’s behaving in front of you doesn’t mean he’s changed. Just means he wants something from you.”

All of them were staring at him with the expression Aunt May would have when she thought he wasn’t looking, back when people were dying. Worry tinged with helplessness. He looked down, unable to face that expression.

Peter stared at the jump drive in his hand, heart sinking to his stomach where it twisted and tied itself into knots. He wanted to crush it. It would be so easy. His hand tightened around it, but he stopped before any damage. 

He sighed, suddenly feeling unbelievably tired.

“Whatever.” He turned and headed to the gaping hole in the wall.

“Stay safe, kid.” It was Steve who said it, and Peter couldn’t even argue the kid coming from him. He waved tiredly in acknowledgement and jumped into the cooling night air.

Peter tucked the thumb drive away, exhaustion rolling over him. He was tempted to just go home, just curl up under the covers and forget about everything, especially the drive burning a hole in his pocket.

But Wade would be disappointed. Also pizza was always good. He deserved one night, right? One night to believe he’d made the right choice when he showed Wade his face, gave him his name. How long had it been since he’d chilled with anyone, mask off? He liked Wade; he didn’t want to cut him out of his life or throw him out of the city.

So he was procrastinating, but what else was new? 

He swung to Wade’s apartment building mechanically, and not even the rush of web slinging through the city washing away his unease. When he reached Wade’s building he didn’t have to count to know which was the correct window anymore, and it made Peter’s lips twitch into a bitter smile. 

A man was loitering on the corner, eyes widening when he saw Peter above him. Peter dropped down, landing next to him.

“Hello,” he said in a friendly voice, and the man blanched. Which was just rude really.

“I-I, um, hi?”

“Oi, Spidey, stop terrifying Fred! He’s mine to scare, right Fred?” Wade hung half out his window still in full regalia, grinning down at them, and Peter rolled his eyes. Fred probably had enough to deal with.

“Yessir!”

“See, this is why crime doesn’t pay, Fre—whatever you name actually is.” He pointed up at Wade. “You end up dealing with weirdos like him.”

“Rude, baby boy. You’re crushing me with your negativity.” Wade staggered back from the window dramatically, then popped back up again, pointing down at Fred. “Oh! Fred! Stop leaving shit on my doorstep, man. I have no need for your further contributions. You won’t make it very far in life if you  give away all the merchandise. And if you make me trip one more time with loaded weapons,  _  you _ will learn what it’s like to accidentally shoot yourself this time. Only it won’t be accidental.”

Fred gibbered something and ran off, and Peter shook his head. He webbed himself up and swung through Wade’s open window, twisting to land next to Wade instead of knocking him over.

“You really should leave off the poor man,” Peter said as Wade closed the window muttering to himself about creative ways to accidentally shoot people. “And aren’t you trying not to kill.”

“Look at this nonsense, baby boy!” Wade gestured to the kitchen, and Peter snorted. Piles of bags just like the one Wade had rooted through when Peter had been injured covered every surface.

“You’ll have the city clean in no time at this rate. I should have thanked the man.” Peter took off his mask, running a hand through his hair to try and tame it a bit (ineffective as always), grinning at Wade. “Who knew you could threaten drug dealers into cleaning up the city for you?”

Wade was just staring at him, and Peter nudged him with an elbow. He jumped a bit, and Peter snickered.“Did you order pizza already?”

“Yeah,” Wade said softly, and Peter frowned at him. Wade was acting off today for sure. Did he know what was on the drive?  Wade shook himself. “So what did Mommy want to tell you about me?”

Peter shrugged, feeling the harsh outline of the drive burning into his skin. “I don’t know. I told them to fuck off.”

Wade’s jaw dropped. “You did not. Even I wouldn’t tell Captain America to fuck off. You don’t even... you don’t  _ swear _ !”

Peter just smiled and didn’t answer. He turned away and flopped on the couch.

Wade sat next to him. Right next to him. “You didn’t, did you? Because if I missed that...”

Peter laughed. “Not exactly but close enough. Then I left.” Peter rubbed the back of his neck and looked away.

“Oh my god.” Wade bounced up and down like a kid, making Peter bounce too. 

“What are we watching?” Peter asked. He couldn’t talk about this anymore. The drive felt like a lump of hot lead in the pocket on his wrist. Luckily, Wade was always easy to distract.

“I thought instead of watching something... “ Wade whipped out Super Smash Bros. from somewhere mysterious and shoved it in Wade’s face. 

“Is that a challenge?” Peter asked, grinning at Wade. He leaned back and webbed the controllers over as Wade popped in the game. “Because you will regret it.”

“If you think you even have a  _ shot _ , baby boy, you have another thing coming.”

* * *

 

By the time that the pizza came, they were too involved to pay more than scant attention to their food. Peter didn’t even complain about Wade’s choices in toppings.

**Tuna, ham, and pineapple are a match made in heaven! I don’t know how Petey doesn’t see that.**

_ *gasp* Something you don’t like about him? Is this the end?  _ Wade pointedly ignored them, biting his bottom lip in concentration as Princess Peach (Wade, of course) and Mewtwo battled it out on the screen. Their elbows brushed as they sat on the couch.

**Please have you seen that face? And he truuuuusts us! Like how did we get so lucky.**

_ He trusted us this morning.  _ Wade’s hand slipped on the controller, letting Peter land a special attack. 

**... Why past tense?**

_ Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed. _

**Noticed what? He’s here isn’t he?**

_Yeah, but if he really told his idols to fuck off for us, we’re going to be on the cover of_ _Playboy_ _next issue in that racy little red number._

Wade froze, and Peter landed the finishing blow. The screen proclaimed him the winner, but he frowned and looked over at Wade.

“You okay, man?”

**But...**

_ He’s been quiet all night. He’s never quiet. _

**Maybe he’s tired.**

“He’s always tired. He practically never sleeps.”

_ Exactly. _

“Okaaaay, if you wanted me to leave so you could go to bed—”

“No!” Wade reached out to grab his hand, remembered himself in time, and let his hand fall back to the couch. “You’re always tired not me.”

Peter blinked at him in the light of the television, and Wade’s breath caught just a little, like it did every time he’d looked at Peter today. Well, every day, really, but today there was a special on butterflies or something, and his stomach had stocked up.

**No-mask Spidey is the best!**

“I hate big box stores. Who really needs 50 rolls of toilet paper at once? But you buy it anyway because it’s so cheap.”

“But then if the zombies come you’re prepared.”

“Baby boy, if the zombies come, you and I would have it dealt with before lunch. How many times are you going to take a shit.”

Peter laughed, but Wade could hear the strain tangled up in it. It was still a laugh though, and Wade’s chest tightened.

**He brightens the whole world a little bit when he does that. Even when he’s sad.**

“Yeah.” Wade shook himself. “That’s what I thought, baby boy.”

_ They must have told him something. Look at him. He’s sad.  _

“Shut up!” Wade reached for a gun to make White leave off, then remembered Peter was right there. Peter flinched when Wade’s hand hit the gun, and Wade froze, something inside him splintering into a millions pieces.

_He doesn’t trust us anymore._ _He’s going to leave us just like I’ve been saying and you’re too cowardly to handle that. Not going to stick though. It never does. There’s never enough pain for you, is there?_

**Petey isn’t going to leave us!** But even Yellow sounded doubtful, and Wade closed his eyes.

_ Then why has this whole night felt like goodbye? He didn’t even complain about the pizza toppings. He  _ _ smiled _ _ at it. All nostalgic like. _

“Wade, are you okay?” Wade’s eyes snapped open. Peter was frowning.

“Just tell me what they said, Peter.” Wade scooted back until his back hit the arm of the couch. Peter froze, eyes wild as the perfect mess that was his hair. He sighed, looking at Wade while biting his lip. 

**Okay, I know this is bad right now, but—how fucking adorable is that?**

“I—uh, they did just tell me you were going to betray me.” Peter suddenly found the ceiling very interesting. “I told them to butt out.”

_ He doubts us because of that? I mean, he must have already known that going in. _

**I hate to agree but that is kind of our thing.**

“That’s it?” Wade laughed, but it was hollow. 

_ Why should there be anything else? _

“Don’t tell me you didn’t want him to be different too,” Wade muttered.

Peter shifted, and there was a moment of silence as he decide whether to share with Wade what exactly had lost his trust. If he’d ever had any in him.

**He showed us his face! And told us about his aunt/our rival!**

_ And he already regrets that. Because he knows we’ll hurt him. _

Peter took out a thumb drive. Such a little thing, but it crushed Wade all the more intensely.

“What’s on it?” Wade asked. There could be any number of things that would make Spidey look at him with a hint of disgust, make him flinch back when Wade reached towards a weapon. And he should. Wade was under no illusions about that. He hadn’t done anything since that night on the roof, at least he thought he hadn’t. But what did he know of what was right and wrong?

_ Nothing. _

**Nada** .

“I haven’t looked yet.”

Wade froze a moment, then got up to pace to the window. His fists clenched.

_ So it was all a lie. Figures. _

“You never trusted me, did you? It was a lie.”

“Wade—”

“You were just waiting for me to fuck up, for me to fail. You never believed in me.”

“I did, I—”

Wade’s fist slammed into the wall.

“No, Pete—Spider-man. Spare me the empty platitudes.”

_ Why get angry at him? He was just being smart. _

“He was supposed to be different,” Wade whispered. “I could have been—I could have done it for him.” Peter’s eyes still widened in the glow of the television, and he must have heard. Wade knew the look in his eyes, had seen it a million times on everyone else’s face. But he never thought to see it on Peter’s face, not directed at him.

**Fear. Oh, Petey.**

_ About time. Took him too long for such a smart person. _

It shouldn’t hurt so much, but he’d let himself hope that maybe...

_ You’re such a fucking idiot. Like you could ever be anything worthy of even being in Spider-man’s presence.  _

**Why do we hurt everyone? Why did we have to hurt** **him** **?**

“Wade, I do trust you. I won’t watch—”

He took particular masochistic pleasure in Spider-man flinching when he lunged across the room to snatch the drive.

**Look at Petey’s face. We deserve to hurt.**

“Oh no,  _ baby boy _ , let’s watch, shall we?” He couldn’t look at Peter, couldn’t see the pain and the fear he’d put on his face, no matter how much he deserved it. He made a move to get the drive back, and Wade did something guaranteed to make him stop. 

Wade yanked off his mask.

He made himself Peter’s eyes got even wider. Wade smiled, edged and cruel, and Peter shrank back just like everyone always does. 

**Nooooo, I thought he’d be different. We don’t deserve him, but I thought...**

_ You’re too ugly for him. Not even the sanctimonious Spider-man can hide his revulsion. _

“Don’t like what you see, Spidey? I’m a monster, inside and out.” Wade turned away to connect the drive to the tv.

Peter was reaching out for him when he made himself look, eyes almost pleading, and Wade sneered. So he’d pretend it didn’t bother him, that Wade didn’t bother him. He’d seen Peter’s reaction. 

_ Not much point in pretending. Still, even now he manages to be a decent person. And you thought you could be his  _ _ friend,  _ _ that you coudl ever deserve his trust. Why would he give it to a fuck up like you. _

“Wade, no, I don’t—”

“Aw, c’mon, Spidey. At least this way you’ll have something to blame. It will make you feel better. Don’t worry. They’re right. I’m a terrible excuse for a human being. The world would be better off without me, but no matter how hard I try—and boy, can we get creative let me tell you—I can’t manage to rid the world of me. Now let’s watch! I hope they picked something gory. I love a good gore film.”

Wade had managed to summon his usual joking tone, the fake one, the one he hadn’t used in front of Peter for weeks without realizing it. It made his chest ache, a pain more present, more real than the times he’d literally had his heart ripped out.

**Bet the video is super tame. The Avengers are so laaaaaame.**

_ What do you do that isn’t going to scare him off? It could be anything. _

The video was fuzzy: it was a street camera if he had to guess. Sure enough there was his suit, and the figure wielded his swords expertly as he mowed down dozens of civilians.

**I know we have memory problems but...**

_ That’s odd. This must have been recent, and that’s definitely New York, but... that’s not us, is it? Not that it matters. He’d never believe the likes of you. _

“Not like it matters.” Wade glanced back at Peter, who was staring at the screen in horror. He jolted when Wade looked back, mouth opening and closing like he just couldn’t find the words.

His voice was hoarse when he finally managed to form words. “Is that... is that you?”

“Sure looks that way doesn’t it? Man, my ass looks better on film than I expected.” Wade posed dramatically, mirroring the pretender on tv.

“Wade, this isn’t the time for jokes.” Wade had never heard Peter that angry before, not even when they were sometimes enemies. The arm of the sofa made a splintering sound—

**Like our heart**

— as Peter gripped it, and his voice had dropped, almost growling. In any other situation, Wade would have loved to hear him sound like violence just barely contained, but it was hollow when directed at him. He laughed, a harsh bitter noise.

“Oh, baby boy, this is definitely the time.” Wade grinned ferally, and Peter’s eyes were drawn from the completed slaughter on screen to the horror of his face again.

**Why couldn’t we even get one grope in before he hated us? You didn’t have to take of the mask.**

“Of course I had to,” Wade said, and Peter blanched even more. He didn’t lunge to attack him, but he was tensed up. Ready for Wade to attack him.

_ Smart boy. Finally learned what he was pretending to be friends with.  _

Wade turned away.

He strode to the window, opening it so hard it cracked. He couldn’t look back though, and instead he tugged his mask back on.

“It was fun, Spidey. I’d make promises about not selling you out, but we both know what that would be worth.” His hand tightened on the window frame, and for a second he almost wanted to turn back, to tell him that wasn’t him, to tell him he would try, to tell him there was nothing he wouldn’t do to earn his trust—or just one more smile.

_ Pathetic. He wouldn’t care about any of that. You think he ever cared about you? This was all a game to him.  A little thrill in his life. A bit of hypothetical danger. He doesn’t care, and he never would have. This was always going to happen. _

Yellow was just whimpering now, and Wade let go of the window sill.

Wade jumped before Peter could respond, before he could change his mind. Even if he could persuade Peter to believe him—

_ We could. He’s so naive. _

—how long would it take for the next damn thumb drive. Or for him to actually fuck up. He couldn’t change, could never change no matter how much and how long he’d wanted to.

_ I told you so. _

**"I know now why you cry. But it's something I can never do. Goodbye.”**

_ Drama queen.  _

He made it to an overhang where Spider-man wouldn’t be able to see him if he passed over before he blew his brains out.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... Sorry?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little bit floored by the response to the last chapter :O You guys are seriously amazing, and I'm so grateful for all the support!! Wailing and swearing and crying and grounding me count as support, right? Anyway, I stand by the happy ending tag, promise, even if it seems a bit dark atm! Fluff is much more my comfort zone anyway :D
> 
> As always, thank you to [ImperialMint](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperialMint) for betaing and in general being amazing!
> 
> Enjoy!!

Peter didn’t know how long he sat there, rooted to the beat-up old couch, before he finally looked back at the screen, filled now with static.

He laughed, an empty sound in an empty room, and slumped back. Had he really thought he could help Wade with a half-assed plan of “let’s see how it goes”?  Whether or not that was actually Wade, Wade hadn’t believed Peter would actually think anything but the worst. And he had been right, if Peter were being honest, which made Wade’s pain---and that had been pain, Peter of all people should recognize it when someone was using humor to cover up pain---all the harder to bear. 

He’d revealed his secret identity to Wade less than 24 hours ago, but he’d still sat down on this couch certain that he wouldn’t be back. Because he trusted Wade with himself and with the people he cared about, but he didn’t trust Wade with anyone else. It was hard not to, when Wade so obviously cared about him, had from the beginning.

But even when Wade hadn’t killed that woman SHIELD had contracted him to kill, Peter still had been positive the Avengers would have proof Wade hadn’t changed. Wade would never hurt Peter. But Peter had definitely hurt Wade.

He drew his knees to his chest and dropped his forehead onto them. 

Peter had wondered if Wade would ever show him his face, but he never had wanted it to be like that. Never wanted to see his eyes so accusing, so pained. And it was all his fault. The way Wade had torn off his mask, like the shock value was a weapon he was well used to wielding, haunted him. An effective weapon too, for all that Peter wasn’t at all put off by the scars.

But it was another reminder of how he’d thrown away all of Wade’s trust. Wade had believed his face would scare Peter off, keep him from reacting. And he hadn’t moved, just like Wade wanted, too wrapped up in his new friendship falling apart, in the realization that he had hurt Wade, to reach out when it was most needed.

His heart ached, and he pulled his knees closer, fingers gripping hard enough to bruise through the thin material of his suit. 

“Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

Wade was probably long gone. Peter had chased him down enough times to know he only ever found Wade when Wade wanted to be found. Which used to be always---definitely more often than Peter had liked. 

But he didn’t think Wade would want to see him right now. Maybe not ever. 

He wasn’t sure he blamed him.

But he had to at least try. He took a deep breath in and sat up, pulling out his phone. He shot Wade a quick text, not letting himself think about what to say, just saying he wanted to talk. Wade’s phone beeped next to him on the couch and Peter laughed.

Of course he’d left it.

He stared at the phone a minute, the screen still lit up with Spideybabe <3<3<3, before reaching for the remote and starting up the video again. If this wasn’t Deadpool, who was it? And why were they framing him? If it was Wade... well, Peter would deal with that later.

But this time, he wasn’t going to go halfway. He would find Wade, and this time, Peter would earn Wade’s trust by actually letting Wade earn his.

The video played again, but this time Peter watched more closely. The Avengers could tell him more about where it was shot, so he focused more on the figure in red, slicing through the crowd mechanically. He didn’t want it to be Wade, so he was probably biased, but there was no playfulness to this violence, nor did it have a bloodthirsty edge that Peter had only seen a few times.

Peter sighed. There was really no way to tell from a grainy video from a surveillance camera. He would have to do some investigating. But if Wade hadn’t done this, there was no surer way to find him than by tracking down his imposter. And if he had... well, Peter had to know. And there might be clues that could help him find Wade anyway.

He pocketed Wade’s phone and gathered up the trash from their pizza. It would be awhile before Wade came back here, if he wanted to avoid Peter. If he ever came back. 

Peter stared at the pizza boxes stacked up in his hands, from an hour ago, when everything was mostly okay. They crumpled in his hands, and he crossed to the window where Wade had vanished. He chucked the pizza boxes in an open dumpster and leaned against the window frame. His eyes caught on the hole Wade had punched in the wall, and he reached out to it.

He looked back at the empty apartment. There had never been much in it---this was just a safe house Wade probably (wisely) expected to blow up one day--- but never before had it seemed barren or cold. Now it was just a shell of a place, any hominess driven out by Peter himself. He turned back to the window and leaped out, webbing it shut behind him.

One quick pass over the city couldn’t hurt.  Just to see.

* * *

 

Wade woke up covered in trash.

_ That’s what you get for killing yourself in an ally. _

**The good citizens of New York recognize what we are at least.**

The stench of rotting blood and death cut through the fermenting food and cat litter, wrapping around him like a comforting shroud. Wade groaned and clutched his head, breathing through the pain. His head was muzzy like after a head wound.

“Did I shoot myself?”

_ Oh, this is good, he doesn’t remember yet. _

**HOW DARE YOU FORGET WHAT YOU DID TO SPIDEY?**

_ Isn’t it more what Spidey did to us? And you’re normally the one who forgets things. _

**Excuse you, I am a master of remembering. I will never forget that ass. AND WE ALMOST HAD A CHANCE AND YOU BLEW IT!**

“Pretty sure I’d remember blowing anything to do with that ass,” Wade mumbled. His lips still felt swollen and his tongue was thick and clumsy. He started to get up, shaking off trash as he went. His skin was on fire, but he shoved the pain down like always, breathing deep. He picked a banana peel from the top of his head and grinned.

“Hey, I always knew I was a-peel---”

It hit him all at once: Peter’s beautiful face, grinning at him before it all went to shit; Peter fidgeting, already having condemned Wade in his mind, proof be damned; Peter’s stricken face watching that fucking video; Peter’s palpable disgust at seeing his own face. Wade crumpled back into the trash, curling on himself.

_ Well who could blame him? And we totally would have betrayed him at some point, so it was just intelligent of him to expect it. _

**But, but but!! *sigh* Why do you have to be such a fuck-up? We can’t have anything nice.**

_ We don’t deserve anything nice. You deserve exactly this. Dying in an alley, surrounded by trash and your own rotting brain matter. _

This time Wade made sure to get as much of his head as possible, literally bringing out the big guns. Maybe he wouldn’t remember at all then.

It didn’t work, of course, not that time nor any of the times that followed. That would be better than he deserved.

**Enough! I’m bored, and we haven’t eaten anything but lead in who-the-fuck knows how long.**

_ Yellow does have a point. Plus, someone’s going to call the cops soon, and Spidey could find us. If he’s bothering to look. _

***squeals* Never mind!! Let’s stay here killing ourselves forever until we’re rescued by Hot Stuff.**

Wade’s hand tightened on his gun. He stroked his finger over the trigger, over and over, not shooting, not yet. Peter recoiling from him played over and over behind his eyelids.

_ C’mon, pull yourself together, Captain! There’s an imposter of us to kill anyway. That at least will be permanent. _

**Oh right! He made Petey hate us. He must suffer. We can always kill ourselves after!**

His eyes snapped open at that, and he took a deep breath, the comforting stench of death curling around him until he could almost feel bony fingers tight around his neck. Pain and guilt warred in his stomach, a counterpoint to the physical agony skating across his skin and freshly healed wounds.

“Right. Time to go to work.” Wade staggered to his feet, to lean against the wall and pant heavily.

**That’s the spirit! We get to have real fun now, right? Until he forgives us and takes us back because he can’t resist our bad boy charms.**

_ He’s not going to forgive us. He never cared in the first place. _

**SHUT YOUR MOUTH! Our Spidey will love us forever! He’s just... conflicted.**

“He’s never cared, you idiot.” Wade started stumbling his way to the street, his heart squeezing in his chest. He needed to find some food and then get started tracking down the people who made him see the truth that still scraped along his skin and bored gaping holes in his chest.

“He never will.”

After stopping by the nearest Taco Bell, Wade headed straight for Weasel’s, getting a wide berth from other pedestrians.

_You couldn’t even remember to take the mask off before you shot yourself. What a dumbass._ _You’ve scarred these fuckers for life---you’ve got worse skin than Callisto and scare people even when you’re not covered in your own blood and brain matter._

**And trash! Don’t forget the trash.**

_ *sigh* And trash. _

**I’m so glad they gave us tacos before calling the cops!**

_ They were too afraid to say no. They didn’t even ask for money. He had to throw it at them. _

“At least we weren’t far from Weasel’s place.” It was rush hour, but the sea of people parted around him, gawking and whispering as they slid by. “If we draw too much attention, Spidey might try to kick us out of the city. And we need to take care of a few things first.”

Weasel's apartment was as shitty as always, a sixth floor walk-up in an even seedier area than Wade’s had been.

“Of course, more stairs. Today needed more stairs.”

**Worth it for the toys. And the mask. He still has a spare, right?**

“He’d better.” Wade kicked down the door and walked in. Ignoring the screech from a back room, he headed straight for the kitchen and a beer. “If you live in this part of town, you should be more prepared for break-ins,” he called out, and Weasel appeared in the kitchen doorway, a sweet looking rifle pointed shakily in Wade’s general direction.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said, and the gun lowered but wasn’t set aside.

“I need info, sick guns, money, and a new mask.” Wade’s pistol was a comforting weight in his hand as he spun it.

Weasel sighed. “The only spare mask I have I used as a vomit bag after a drink spiked with who-the-fuck-knows, but you can have it. Public service on my part. I don’t know what you expect me to do about the money. I’m broke as fuck, man. You’re the loaded one. Also, guns cost money.”

The gun was cocked and pressed to Weasel’s temple before Wade consciously thought about crossing the room. 

“Well, then, you’d better do really well at the information then, hadn’t you? Maybe get some extra credit to cover up all your other failures.”

Weasel whimpered, just a bit, and Wade let him go. “Dude, who pissed in your corn flakes? And you stink by the way. I know you can’t help the ugly, but there are actual visible wavelengths of stench coming off of you.”

“Weas, do I look like I care if I smell like lilacs?” Wade asked.

“Is that why the new boyfriend broke up with you? Your stench?” Wade froze, Peter shrinking back from him playing out again. His gun hand trembled, but he forced it down while Weasel went on yammering like an idiot.“ I couldn’t believe it when I read that you and the friendly neighborhood Spider-man were getting all cozy? Did you hit that because---”

**Kill him.**

He fired off four shots, at least one close enough to Weasel’s hair to make it sway. Weasel’s eyes widened, and he gulped. He did a good job of making his trembling a little less obvious than usual, but his knees sagged just a bit.

_ You big old softy. _

“He’s useful, I’m not going to un-alive him now.” Weasel made a pained noise and started edging toward the door. Wade let him.

“Right, bad break up, never mind. I never mentioned it. What do you need?”

“Guns, a lot of them. Charge my account, I don’t care how much. And I need to know who’s impersonating me.”

Weasel’s brows rose and he relaxed at once now that there was business. “Right, well, clearly you’re very emotional about this, so as a friend, my only price is that you take a shower while I start digging.” He ducked out of the room only to pop back in to throw Wade a mask. “Might wanna wash that too. Probably isn’t hygienic or some shit.”

“Thanks, asshole,” Wade said, but he clutched the mask like a lifeline, until his fingers were numb and the fabric creaked.

**Is he taking care of us?**

_ We must look really fucking shitty for him to notice. _

**I always knew Weas cared.**

“We haven’t slipped up and almost killed him in a long time. For a few months at least.” Wade headed to the bathroom and grimaced. “This is the real hygiene issue, jeez Weas.”

_ Like we’re any better.  _

Wade shrugged and shuffled to the shower, stripping off his reeking suit and tossing it in the shower before turning on the water. It spurted out after a couple of suspicious thumps, a weak stream of tepid water. As soon as it hit the suit, the bottom of the tub started filling with bloody water. Judging from the suspicious stains the shower had seen much worse.

_ He probably just knows that if we get set off he’ll be like the first to die. Hazard of being our friend. It’s another reason why Peter was smart to toss you like so much trash. _

**Oh, I wish he’d toss us off. Mmmmm, those strong fingers. Do you think his hands are smooth? I bet they are---he doesn’t use any weapons. Oh, but maybe you can feel the spider hairs?**

Wade’s hands clenched hard enough to leave nail marks in his palms, and he took a deep breath as he stepped into the shower, skin on fire as the water sluiced over him. He must have gotten soap in his eyes or no, maybe the stench in here was so bad his eyes were watering.

“Really not in the mood, Yellow.”

**Oh.**

_ Great you idiot. You wanna start the cycle of continuous death again. It’s fun to make sure he knows his place, but we’re not going to get anything done like this. _

Wade stood motionless under the stray, eyes shut as he took deep shuddering breaths. 

_ We don’t have time for another depressive spiral, dumbass. Killing the imposter will make you feel better. Now grab the soap and wash. _

Wade did as instructed. The cheap soap stung on his skin and let him breathe easier, the harsh chemical scent something to focus on.

**So we just going to ignore the stiffy?** Yellow sounded positively scandalized, and Wade’s lips twitched against his will.

“Anyone but him.”

**Can do! Mmm, how about** **everyone** **but him?**

When Wade stepped out of the shower and hung up the suit and mask to dry, there were sweats he’d left here at some point and a semi-clean-looking towel waiting for him, next to a pair of crocs in his size.

**Awww, he really does care!**

_ About his life _ .

Wade dressed quickly, sliding on the crocs with a sigh of contentment. He had to hand it to Weasel, the man was good at making Wade want to not un-alive him.

_ Survival instinct. _

There was muttering coming from the living room, and when Wade entered, Weasel was hunched over a screen, with a phone held between his shoulder and ear. He looked up when Wade entered. 

“Hey, hold on a minute,” he said into the phone then nodded over to the couch. “Golden Girls Marathon on, pizza is on the way, and there are three flavors of chocolate-based ice creams in the freezer. This should only take me a few hours.”

“Marry me,” Wade said, and Weasel shuddered. 

“God no. Just get your fat ass on the couch. I didn’t google what to do for a friend in a break up for nothing. Just be glad I decided not to roll you up like a sushi roll.”

“Tumblr is not a legitimate source, Weas,” Wade said. “Now, wikihow...”

“Go feed your creepy old people fetish and let me work.”

**Ugh a kinkshamer, we can’t marry him. We have far too many kinks for that.**

Wade settled on the couch with a tub of rocky road and a spoon and set about trying to feel as numb as possible. Maybe then he wouldn’t see Peter everytime his eyes closed and it wouldn’t hurt so much.

* * *

 

Peter’s pass over the city had turned up six muggers, a gun deal, and three dealers selling to kids, but no Wade. He’d headed back home to collapse into bed still in the suit to stare at the ceiling for an hour before his alarm went off, turning Wade’s phone over and over in his hands.

He’d gone to class in a daze and his boss at the lab had just sent him home, scolding him for working late on his thesis. Peter dragged himself home to work on his thesis so he’d actually have something to show the next day. By dark, he’d gotten more done than in a normal week of procrastination and sulking, but anything was better than being left with his thoughts, even working on his thesis, which wouldn’t be due for months.

Finally, though, the sun set, and he slid on the suit with a feeling of relief. Peter couldn’t stand the waiting, not with Wade out there doing who knows what. Part of Peter really just wanted him to be the person in the video because that would be easier. He knew how to handle that. Shove down the pain and punch. He could do that.

But if it wasn’t Wade... well, he’d still sure as heck be punching someone, but how could he face Wade afterwards?

Peter shook his thoughts off and swung out the window. Tony had sent him all the Avengers had on the incident last night, just before they all left on some mission or other. They didn’t have much (“Well, why would we bother when we knew who did it?”), but they knew where it had happened, and Peter would start there. 

It was an alleyway almost exactly between Peter’s and Wade’s apartments, much like any other in New York, and Peter sighed when he landed with a flip. He poked around but everything had been cleaned up, and it could have been any other alley of the sort he’d spent way too much time in. Which was odd in and of itself. The video had shown a decent number of people being slaughtered. But there shouldn’t be that many people in an alley all at once, especially not at night. 

The alley was fairly well lit for one of its ilk, but there still shouldn’t have been that many pedestrians in an alley. The neighborhood wasn’t quite as bad as the one where Wade lived---had lived---but it wasn’t safe and you wouldn’t find that many people randomly in _ any _ alleyway after dark.

So those people had been brought here. Why here?

Peter spotted the camera the video must have been taken from then wandered through the alley looking for others. In the nearby area, there were only two others in areas that were off the main streets and those two were both broken.

They’d wanted the murder spree to take part where someone would be able to see it. Peter couldn’t quite decide between bitter laughter and a wail and made some weird combination of the two as his knees gave out in relief and he sank to the hard filthy pavement in the alley.

Wade wouldn’t have done that. If anything he’d have made sure he wasn’t being filmed. The figure in the video wasn’t Wade. Which meant Peter had not only hurt someone he’d come to call friend with no justification but his own prejudices, but Wade probably  _ had _ been restraining himself all along, ever since Peter had sat next to him on that rooftop. And now he wouldn’t be.

Peter had hurt his friend, who’d been counting on him for support and he’d loosed an angry murderer on his city.

He had to find them before Wade did. 

He had to find Wade and apologize, ask for another chance.

Peter growled and shoved himself off the ground to kick a nearby metal trash can, relishing in the supple crumple of steel beneath his foot.

The Avengers didn’t bother to investigate beyond “Deadpool did it” and were too busy with the whole saving the world from whatever disaster they or their relatives had undoubtedly caused this week to help him. He’d have to hack into their databases again, and he didn’t have that kind of time.

His spider-sense buzzed at the back of his head, and Peter fired off a web at the man that had been trying to sneak past him while he angrily vandalized some stranger’s trashcan, webbing him securely against the wall with his feet thrashing above the ground.

“Oh god, please no. Not again,” the man whimpered, and Peter straightened, recognition washing over him. 

“Fred?” A long drawn out whine was his only response, but that just about confirmed it was Fred. “Hey, man what’s up? How’s it hanging?”

Fred glared at him, and Peter crossed his arms. “Finding my puns hilarious will get you brownie points. No actual brownies though.”

“Ha ha ha,” Fred said, and Peter grinned at his deadpanned tone. His smile faltered as soon as it formed, and dammit he didn’t care if Wade were innocent, if he made Peter unable to enjoy a good banter there would be words. Preferably wordplay.

“Can I go now?” Fred asked, jerking him out of his thoughts.

“Nope, but I’ll grant you a pity point for that pathetic excuse for a laugh.” Peter straightened and walked over to stand nearer Fred as he wiggled. “I have a couple questions. You pass through a lot?”

“Sometimes.”

“See anything weird a few days ago?”

“You mean when all those people were sliced and diced?”

Peter rolled his eyes behind the mask. “Yes, Fred.”

“Nope, I didn’t see nothing.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Peter sighed and resisted the urge to beat his head on the wall. “What a waste.”

“Word on the street is that it was those people hiring muscle last few weeks though.”

Peter was beginning to believe Fred deserved whatever Wade had done to him. And then some. “And who might that be?”

“I dunno. They was hiring down in the usual places.”

“Which are? C’mon, Fred, help me out here!”

It took another ten minutes of circular talk for Peter to get some names of dive bars to start tracking the lead, and a massive headache was building at his temples, but he finally had somewhere to start.

He hesitated before cutting Fred down though.

“Aw, c’mon, man more questions?”

Peter shifted back on his heels and chewed on his bottom lip before sighing. “Just one. Do you know where Deadpool is?”

“Nah, man, haven’t seen him since last night.” Fred spat on the ground. “I ain’t stupid enough to go looking for him.” 

Peter smiled to himself and let Fred down. 

“Looks like I’m not that smart,” he muttered to himself. “Well, Fred, this has been oodles of fun, but I’ve got to move on to interrogating other people. What we had was special and you’ll always have a piece of my heart, but I’m not ready to settle down yet. I could never commit myself to just one---hey! Running away is rude.”

Fred was neither fast nor quiet (color Peter surprised) as he made his escape, muttering to himself. “Fucking costumed freaks, fucking crazy, all of ‘em.” 

“Aww, I think he likes me!” Peter said, automatically turning to catch Wade’s eyes to share in the joke like they had a h before he remembered. He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. 

He would fix this.

It took  the rest of the night and four more interrogations, in which some of the participants were even less coherent than Fred, before Peter got a name and an address that wasn’t a dingy bar that reeked worse than most alleys.

Phoenix labs.

Crazy scientists, naturally. Totally his kind of villains, right up his alley.

The sky was lightening with the soft hues of predawn when Peter swung home. He didn’t want to leave the chase, but he had to show up to class and get some lab time logged and probably sleep a couple of hours. It wouldn’t do him any good to fall asleep on the bad guys and hope his snores would defeat them.

Hopefully, wherever Wade was, he wouldn’t make a move quite yet.

* * *

 

_ Hey, isn’t this taking too long? _

Wade blinked, tearing his gaze from the screen where Bea Arthur was busy being her sassy perfect self. “Huh?”

**Bea, my lady, my love, my light, my life, why are you so perfect?**

_ He said a few hours and you’ve watched a whole season _ . Wade frowned, looking at the coffee table, where the remains of the pizza, then the nachos Weasel had brought later, and then the Chinese that had just appeared, as well as all of the ice cream tubs. The sun could be seen through the grimy windows, and he snarled.

Wade switched off the tv before he could get sucked back into it by Bea’s sly smile.

**NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

“That little conniving dick pustule.” Wade got up with enough force to send the coffee table flying.

Weasel sputtered awake at his desk, falling out of his chair and flailing. His eyes met Wade’s and widened. He shuffled back awkwardly.

**Hahahahahaha, what a loser. But there’s no getting away from the fact that he kept us away from our revenge.**

_ You think he’d learn. _

“You said a few hours, not all day, Weas,” Wade said, taking great pleasure in Weasel’s palpable fear. Of course, Weasel was right to be scared.

**He knows what the sexy death voice means!**

_ Death? We haven’t killed him yet, and he’s fucked up way worse.  _

**He’s our friend, so we wouldn’t kill him. Probably. He’s so fun when he’s scared though.**

Wade grabbed Weasel by the shirt and dragged him up.

“Where is my info?” he said in a low voice.

“I got it! I got it, I just... Dude did you see yourself? I haven’t seen you so fucked up in a really long time, and I just thought revenge might go a little smoother if you’d gotten a chance to eat and rest without dying for a bit. You’re always on about the healing power of Bea Arthur or some such shit, and hey man, it’s totally worked! You no longer look like Death’s reject.”

Wade blinked at Weasel a moment, then dropped him. “Don’t be ridiculous. Death loves me. We have this whole star-crossed lovers thing.”

“Whatever man.”

“But you care, Weas, I’m touched.”

“Don’t make this a moment. Please.” Weasel looked a little nauseous at the thought and staggered over to his computer and grabbed a print off. He looked up at Wade fixing his glasses in a way that reminded Wade too much of Peter.

_ We only saw him wear glasses once for like an hour. How lame are you? _

**Lame and proud baby!**

“Long version or short version?” Weasel looked up at him.

“How long have you known me, Weas?”

“Right, it was this Phoenix Labs place... They are probably evil, specializing in---”

“What the fuck kind of short version is this?”

Weasel sighed, looking almost put upon.

**He’s so cute.**

_ Threaten him some more, maybe that will speed him up _ .

“Nah, he’ll just whine and it will take even longer,” Wade said, and Weasel rolled his eyes.

“Right then,” Weasel said. “That bitch you were supposed to ice for SHIELD is their number two. Here’s an address, there are new toys by the door.”

“Did they make those robots we---I kept running into this week?”

“How the fuck should I know man. Have fun. I’d come with you, but there’s an Overwatch thing I gotta do.”

“You’re a shitty friend, Weas.”

“Back at ya, buddy. Don’t bother me for awhile.”

His suit was all the way dry thanks to Weasel’s worrywart tendencies, and Wade suited up, pulling on his mask with a happy sigh.

_ We’re baaaaaaaaaaaack! _

**Hell yeah!!**

“Let’s fuck shit up,” Wade said, grinning at the new toys Weasel had left him. He swung the bag over his shoulder and headed for the street.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to shoot me [an ask on tumblr](http://lunarshores.tumblr.com/ask) if you're wondering when the next update will be! I wanna try to do twice a month at least, but we'll see. I also would love some Spideypool prompts for warm up fics!! No one sends me any Spideypool prompts :( Anon is fine!!
> 
> Oh, and I posted a Spideypool oneshot called [The Ass in Assassin](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8310199) if you feel the need for fluff, pining, and smut! I needed to cheer myself up from last chapter haha


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! um sorry for the really long delay! I know some of you thought I'd abandoned the story, but I promise you that's not happening anytime soon. I'd give you a whole list of excuses, but I figure you'd rather get to the story.
> 
> Thank you to the wonderful [ImperialMint](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperialMint) for betaing for me as always and kicking my ass to make sure I got this chapter out despite the obvious curse that was on it haha

Wade came to awareness gradually, mind fuzzy, trying to place where he was. He hurt everywhere, but that wasn’t exactly a clue. He tried to shift, only to find his arms were bound over his head, leather straps by the feel of it. Cold metal pressed against his back, and he shivered involuntarily. 

“Well this is familiar,” he said, his voice unnaturally loud in the empty room. Machinery hooked up to him beeped in time with his vitals. 

He couldn’t see much, unable to lift his head to peer around the room, just enough to see sterile metal walls and a perfectly white ceiling. A camera blinked red from the corner pointed right at him. 

“Did we set up a safe word?” Wade asked, hoping to goad an answer if anyone were in the room with him. “Safe words are important.” Silence was his only answer and he let out a breath. How did he end up here? The last thing he remembered had been walking down Weasel's shitty street, a bag full of weapons on his shoulder. And then... pain.

“Oh man, did we get kidnapped? So lame.”

_ That’s what you get for being too focused on revenge to notice someone slamming a needle into your neck. _

“Well, good morning to you too.” Yellow started whimpering in the back on his mind, and Wade growled. “Could you stop that?” His breath was coming fast already—he didn’t really need part of his mind screaming.

He took a deep breath. No one was coming yet, so this was the perfect time to get the fuck out of here before... Yellow keened. Well before. They wouldn’t be long now that he was awake, and he was done with being a lab rat.

On the next inhale, Wade wrenched against the bonds on his wrists, ignoring the splintering of bone and searing pain. He arched up for better leverage, gave one more solid yank, and his right hand was free.

_ Ow _ .

**We’re free? We’re free!!**

“Not yet. Let’s see if they managed to find  _ every  _ knife.” Wade shook his hand back into something resembling alignment and started patting himself down. He was successful on the third pass, finally remembering his belt buckle had a knife hidden in it. “And to think! Spidey said the number of sharp things we carried was redundant!”

_ Not like he cares anymore. _

Wade deflated. 

“Whatever. We don’t care what he thinks anyway,” he said at last, and sliced through the leather still binding him. It bit into his arm, but what did that matter. “Now to see who’s kidnapped us, and who wants to die.”

**Then kill the imposter!**

Wade undid the bindings on his legs and ripped off the electrodes connecting him to the machines. An alarm started blaring, red lights flashing. Wade flipped off the camera as best he could with two still healing hands. The door proved to be an issue for only a moment as Wade smashed the quintessential rolling doctor stool into the control panel.

“Why does that always work?” he asked. “Seems like a poor design flaw to me.”

_ More like terrible writing.  _ The hallway was surprisingly clear and Wade started ducking into the nearby doors. While it was stupid to keep his weapons in the same building as him, bad guys were lazy.

**Hey, be nice! If it is good enough for the new Star Wars movie it’s good enough for us!**

“Man that movie was a bit of a downer.” At the third door down from his, he hit the jackpot. His bag rested on the table along with everything they’d stripped off him, and Wade grinned at the two people pawing through his stuff. “Why, hello. Anyone tell you it’s rude to paw through someone’s private weapon stash before introducing yourselves? I’m not that kinda girl.”

_ Good though.  _

**Like Star Wars could be anything** **but** **good!**

The two guards scrambled up, reaching for their own weapons.  _ Did they really drop a beauty like that automatic to reach for their pitiful sidearms? _

“Looks like you two aren’t the sharpest light bulbs in the drawer,” Wade said, ducking under their initial shots, and taking out the first with a wicked kick to the solar plexus. He caught the other before they could decide whether to flee or try to shoot him, pinning them to the table. He wrapped a hand around their throat, grin stretching wider.

Fear welled up in the guard’s eyes as they turned purple, feet kicking uselessly out. This was what he did, this was him. He would never be anything better than this. It should have felt freeing. Wade let up, letting the guard gasp for air.

“Now, where did you and your merry band take me?” he asked. Despite his super friendly tone, the guard whimpered.

**Now that’s just rude.**

“Ph-ph-phoenix labs. Please, man don’t—” Wade pressed down on the threat again, considering that information.

“So... the people I was after kidnapped me? That has to be one of the stupidest decisions you’ve made yet in your short, stupid, little lives.”

Wade hit the guard in the temple with the butt of the gun they’d so foolishly let drop, and let them slide to the floor, unconscious.

_ Soft already? _

“Shut up. I just didn’t feel like it. You want me to shoot him?” Wade cocked the gun and pointed it at the guard crumpled on the floor.

The door burst open and Wade whirled to fire off three shots at the intruder. They ricocheted off the robot blocking the doorway, and Wade growled.Wade slung his bag over his shoulder and holstered the gun, unsheathing his katanas in one fluid motion.

“Oh goody! Another power up,” he said. “Don’t they ever stop with the improvements? I’m beginning to feel like I should be charging them consulation fees. They get all the cool ideas from me and Spidey.”

He dodged under an arm and hit with burst of flame just as he sliced up into the leg joints. He ignored the burns and odor of burned flesh and kicked the robot pieces aside to get out the door. More robots blocked the hall, and Wade sighed.

“All for little ole me?” Wade spun his blades in the air and started toward the next robot. “You  _ really _ shouldn’t have, evil science lady.”

_ Are we going to make a plan?  _

**Plans are for losers!**

“Yeah, the fuck, White??”

_ Right because winging it has done so well for us so far. _

Wade’s step faltered, and he paused to adjust the strap of his bag of toys. 

“Shut up,” he said, rifling through the duffel bag to pull out a beautiful pair of automatics that would punch a hole through the weak spots and putting extra ammo within easy reach. Weas had outdone himself this time.

**Or nut up!**

_ Can we just get with the killing already? I’m sick of robots. _

“It would be my genuine pleasure.” Wade fingered a grenade but dropped his hand from it reluctantly. Explosions would get too much attention. And if he was getting kicked out of the city by Peter, he was doing after he’d turned the people who’d turned Peter against him into a bigger mess than three day old roadkill. If he was going to be deemed a murderer, he was going to earn it. 

_ Damn straight. _

**What’s straight? Not us that’s for sure.**

Wade snorted and opened fire, aiming for the weak spots he’d found on the main body. The robot army fell in waves, the crumpled metal bodies falling to the floor. The alarm continued to shriek as Wade stepped through the ruins of the army to start climbing yet more stairs..

_ Very subtle. No way will this draw attention. _

**We are doing our best, do you mind?**

“Honey, we’re hooooome!” Wade called, cocking the guns with a snick. ”Cue the tunes.”

**Oh, oh! I got one!! Time to go and get our kiiiiiiiiiicks~~**

Robots continued to file in from somewhere, but these models were already obsolete, and Wade mowed through them as fast as they could come.

“What’s up, fuck you up,” he sang along with the tune Yellow was still screeching.

The alarm halted, and the robots froze as Wade made his way into a central atrium. The ceiling stretched way up to a glass skylight more than a dozen floors up. Wade paused, eyes darting around the eerily empty lobby.

The sound of heels echoed from the hall across the way, and Wade grinned.

“Well, who’d have thought she’d make it so easy on us?” Wade asked. “Giving into the inevitable maybe?” He reloaded his guns, keeping a sharp eye on the surroundings.

_ It’s totally a trap _ .

“Of course it is, but as long as we get to un-alive that bitch, I’m not complaining.”

“Now, Mr. Wilson that’s just rude,” a familiar voice said over the sound system. 

“Show yourself,” Wade said, and mocking laughter filled the air.

“Not until you’ve agreed to surrender and accept our terms.”

Wade grinned ferally. “Fine, we’re coming for you then.” He started across the empty atrium.

**YES, he used my song!**

_ You’re pathetic, you know. _

**You’re just jealous of my fabulous music tastes.**

_ Naturally. _

“I don’t think you will be.”

“Or I could just blow the whole place sky high.” Weasel had included more than enough explosives to take out a city block if Wade felt so inclined.

_ And that’s why we keep him around. _

**That and entertainment value! He’s almost as much fun as Bob. Oh!! We should call Bob.**

“We’re a little busy right now, you idiot.”

“Oh, I don’t think you will. You see, you were kind enough to bring your friend with you last time. We didn’t have time to key anything to the other Avengers yet, but I press this button, and there no longer is a Spider-man.”

Wade froze.

“He’s not here. He’s safe.”

“He doesn’t need to be here,” she said, and she stepped into the atrium, smiling at him. His finger tightened on the trigger, but he didn’t fire. “We had a sample of his blood from when you brought him last time.”

She laughed, a high grating noise that echoed in the open atrium. “It’s funny really. We developed the genetic tracking as a way to keep an eye on you should we lose you, but add it to a tracking missile and... So shoot me and he dies. Leave and he dies. Do anything but be cooperative and he dies. Oh, how rude. I’m Dr. Hart”

Wade’s hands were trembling and the blood rushed in his head, making it hard to focus. She  _ dared _ to threaten  _ Peter _ .

**That BITCH. Oh, she is going to pay.**

“And what makes you think I care about him?” Wade tried.

_ Dude _ .  _ No way is she buying that. _

Dr. Hart just gave him an amused look. “You’re adorable. We’ve had you under surveillance for weeks.”

Wade growled. “You expect me to believe you won’t kill him anyway?”

“It wouldn’t be ideal to make our presence that known at the moment. Everything is still in testing—that’s why we need you—so we’d prefer to keep a low profile.” She shrugged. “It’s no guarantee forever but it’s that or instant death.”

_ Don’t do this.  _

**No, no, no, not experiments!** Yellow let out a whine and Wade’s breathing quickened at the images flashing behind his eyelids.

“It’s the only way. We’ll bust out of here and figure out how to do this without them hurting Spidey, but we need time,” Wade whispered. He lowered his guns and faced the woman. “Fine,” he said outloud. “I’ll play along for now.” 

She grinned at him and stepped closer, a needle with something already at the ready. She faltered when he smiled at her, a smile laced with promises.

“But you’re going to regret this. You’d have been better off letting me kill you now. I’d tell you to ask the other people who thought capturing me was a good idea, but they all died in very messy horrible ways. Shame really.” Wade held out an arm for her to inject into, letting the awareness  that he could snap her neck in an instant without her able to lift a finger to save herself simmer around him.

Dr. Hart shook herself, but Wade took a certain amount of pleasure in rattling her. 

Darkness closed in as she injected him, and Wade welcomed the familiar embrace of Death with the knowledge that waking up would be far less pleasant than anything hell could throw at him.

 

* * *

 

 

The hours dragged on like years. Peter forced himself to sleep, but not even long practice and years of sleep debt made it truly restful. If Peter had found out Phoenix Labs was behind the attack by happenstance, he knew Wade would have found them far sooner if he focused. There wasn’t anyone better than Wade for tracking people down, and with the fury—and betrayal Peter’s conscious oh-so-helpfully piped up—he would be highly motivated.

He bolted awake at seven and called out of work and school, trying to remember if he’d used food poisoning too much lately. Oh, well, no one ever asked about that. He really should make a list of excuses and the last date used.

Breakfast was hastily eaten, and he threw himself out of the window when the sunlight was still soft, blurring the city and banishing the frantic air of the night for the manic morning rush. Peter smiled as he swung over the grumpy morning commuters, snapping insults right back when people yelled up at him. He was a New Yorker, after all.

Though the weather was gorgeous for this close to fall, Peter didn’t linger, pushing himself to web as fast as he could to the lackluster building where Phoenix Labs made their headquarters. He couldn’t shake the bad feeling that he was late,  _ really _ late, and that never boded well. 

It took a few minutes to work his way into the building without an alarm going off, long enough he almost gave into the urgency that dogged him and punched straight through the massive skylight that took off most of the roof. Eventually he ripped a cover off the utility box and crawled into a ventilation shaft.

“Joy.” Peter stifled a sneeze at the thick dust in the system. “Evil scientists are apparently not big on maintenance. Or maybe it’s planned. A trap for idiots foolish enough to believe that climbing through air vents is in anyway a good idea. Kill them through suffocation.” Peter sighed and tried to slide through the vent to raise less dust and keep from the tell tale thumps that a grown man makes in a metal tube. They never did show that in the movies. “And I’m talking to myself. Not that that is unusual for me.”

It was too quiet for Wade to be running loose, but for some reason that didn’t ease the nerves in Peter’s gut. He nodded amiably to a fellow vent-dwelling spider and peered into the next room. Bathroom, nope. Maintenance closet, boring. There! Peter carefully checked the room for any people, then dropped down into the empty lab without a sound. He hurried over to a computer where he could face the door and turned it on.

It was the work of moments to hack into their system, and Peter scoffed. “The dust was their best security feature so far.” Not only was getting into the system ridiculously easy, they had all of their files on the network. He plugged in a thumbdrive and started transferring everything over.

Peter grinned, fingers flying over the keyboard. Now for the Spark Notes edition. “What have you been up to?” Project X sounded suitably ominous, so Peter clicked on that first. Flicking through the files, he paused his eyes wide. They were developing a superbug. Literally in that in only attacked those with powers. He carefully skimmed the files, dread growing. They’d used the flu virues and mutated it so it would only attack human cells that had abnormalities and was even more contagious.

Something like this could wipe out the superhero community in a month.

Peter exited out of that and searched for Deadpool as the data transferred. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.” Wade came up in several entries, and Peter swallowed feeling sick. They thought they could use knowledge from his mutation to make sure it affected all heroes and to speed the disease up. If they got his hands on him... They already had a genetic sample, Peter noted, and smiled without any humor. They wouldn’t have any of this data for long. 

The data transfer completed just as Peter clicked on the last file in the Deadpool search. His fingers froze on the keys. It was a data log for the experiments they were running on the Subject X. 

Fury welled up in him, and Peter took a steadying breath, ejected his drive, stowing it safely away, and unleashed a virus that would shred beyond recovery  _ all _ data they had stored and crash their system.

Once that was one, he backhanded the computer, embedding it into the wall with the satisfying chime of broken glass. Wade was somewhere in this building, and he would  _ not _ be there for a minute longer than it took Peter to find him. 

Peter headed to the center of the building, finding himself in an open atrium that stretched for the whole fifteen stories of the building. He grinned and leaped off the railing, falling. Prisoners were always kept in basements after all, and evil scientists tended to be traditionalists in his experience. 

He caught himself just above the floor with a quick web, then rolled into a landing to keep silent. It took too long to find the stairs in the mostly dark building, but he eventually found an unmarked door that lead to a stairwell. He foot brushed something metallic sending it spinning off into the darkness. 

Peter webbed it to him and frowned, looking down at the bullet casing in his hand, then glancing around the lobby. It didn’t look like Wade had been on rampage. He ducked into the stairwell, and the knot in his chest eased a little at the sight of all the bullet holes scarring the walls. So Wade had fought back, but something in the lobby had made him stop. 

Glints of metal shone in the emergency lighting on the bottom floor, so he flung himself over the railing. He sent a few more cases skittering with his landing, but nothing else stirred. Peter shrugged mentally and set his hand on the only door out of the stairwell. It had obviously been kicked  _ out _ , like Wade had been inside when he went on his rampage on the way out.

Peter wasn’t liking that at all. What on earth could keep Wade from blasting his way out if he’d made it up to the ground floor?

Shaking his head, Peter shoved his worries aside. He needed to get Wade out of here first and burn their samples of the disease. SHIELD was supposed to be after these people so where were they?

When Peter opened the door, an alarm started going off. It seemed confined to the basement, so he ignored it and pressed on. The hall had seen a battle earlier that was for sure, long scratches that brought to mind the robots that had been plaguing them. Oh joy.

There was a small click and a soft whoosh, and his spider sense screamed in the back of his head, jolting down his spine. Peter threw himself flat against the ground as a missile flew over him.

“Seriously?!” Peter got back to his feet and whirled to face the missile. “Who keeps freaking missiles in their basement?”

It immediately turned and headed right back for him. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me!”

Peter threw himself up in the air and twisted. 

The missile passed under his face by a mere inch. Just before it got too far, Peter’s hand darted out and he ripped out the wires connecting to the thrusters. It dropped immediately and Peter snatched it up with webbing to leave it swaying gently in a cradle, safe for now.

“Well, they sure do know how to make a guy feel welcome,” Peter said.

Three more clicks, and a now familiar whoosh answered him, and Peter groaned.

‘Of course. Why not?” he asked, as three missiles sped down the hall. “They do know that if I don’t stop them they their facility will go with me, right? Like am I the only one that gets that?”

They shot forward all zeroing in right on him, and Peter stood still as they approached, waiting. He could feel the heat off the missiles as they zeroed in on him. He took a deep breath and launched himself into the air, aiming for the small gap between them as he contorted. He exhaled as he managed to disarm one of them.

This one didn’t have such a soft landing, clattering to the floor in his distraction with the other two. They’d already circled around behind him, and he twisted and dove and flung himself from one wall to the next. 

He couldn’t get an angle on them, so he landed on the first he’d disarmed, the cradle of web swaying with his weight. The missiles zeroed in on him unerringly, and Peter was going to look forward to reading about how they’d gotten them to track him so well later because if he ignored the whole direness of the situation, it was pretty darn cool.

At the last moment, when the missiles would have no room to change vectors, Peter flung himself with all his strength down the hall to where Wade lay. The missiles made contact with the inert one, and there was that split second when time froze before an explosion hit. And then there was heat and he was flung even further down the hall.

He rolled with the force of the explosion, shooting webs ahead of him until he’d formed a net to cushion his forward momentum. 

When he’d hit the web, Peter just clung for a moment, forcing himself to draw breath. In and out, the air unnaturally loud in his head with his ears momentarily uncooperative. He took stock as soon as his breathing regulated. Minor burns, a couple scratches, a general feeling of having been hit by a truck (honestly it was eerily similar though the science did pan out—force and momentum were force and momentum) and ears that would probably work in a few minutes. Not too bad, really.

Peter slowly turned looking back at the wreckage that was the hallway. It was maybe still structurally sound but the walls really would never be the same. 

“Missiles zero: Spider-man four,” he said, probably far too loudly. He went past his web and began none-too-gently throwing open the doors. It took him four doors barely clinging to their hinges, but he finally found the room that Wade was in.

He’d known what to expect. He had. He’d skimmed the file accounting for the 16 hours they’d had Wade. But it was still a shock to see Wade so haggard and wan.

The scientists had wanted to ensure the virus would work on  _ any _ mutant or mutate, and to do that it needed to be able to infect those with healing factors like Peter. They believed that by pumping Wade with the virus constantly, eventually there would be one that was able to survive his healing factor just a little bit longer. That in turn would evolve until they had a virus that could replicate even when facing the world’s best healing factor. 

It could work too. 

Peter shook off his thoughts and crossed to where Wade lay shivering and sweating, breath harsh and ragged. His face was flushed and his shifting scars only accentuated his pallor. 

“Wade?” Peter said softly and Wade grumbled. “I’m just going to get you out of their okay?” Wade gave no answer, and Peter carefully removed the IVs from Wade’s hand and arm. Blood welled up, and Peter frowned, hastily applying pressure bandages. Wade shouldn’t bleed for long from a needle: the virus must be having more of an effect than Peter would have guess after only 16 hours.

Wade’s eyes cracked open and he coughed weakly. “Spidey? What—” His eyes opened and he shot up. He immediately started hacking and coughing. “You need to—” He was interrupted by another fit of coughing and he sank back down, eyes still wild. “They’re going to—”

“Shhh,” Peter said, brushing a gloved hand over Wade’s forehead. Definitely had a fever. Rage poured through his veins, but he kept his voice gentle. “You’re going to be fine.”

“ ‘m always fine.” Wade glared mulishly. “They’re gonna kill you. Missiles. Can’t leave.”

Peter’s heart stopped, mind flashing back to the obviously successful escape attempt that had just  _ ended _ . He let out a breath, forcing down all the words that were tripping over themselves. 

“They already tried that,” he said eventually. “It didn’t go so well for them.” He ripped through the leather restraints on Wade’s wrists and ankles and frowned when Wade didn’t comment. 

Wade looked him over more carefully. “You do look a bit exploded.”

“I try to get an explosion in at least once a week. It does wonders for my hair. C’mon, let’s get you out of here.” Peter scooped Wade up gently. There was no reason to stick around here. Without Wade, they couldn’t make any progress.

“Should just leave me,” Wade said, but he didn’t struggle as Peter settled him against his chest and started back into the hallway, and Peter smiled underneath his mask.

“Not going to happen.”

“Why—why are you here?” Wade blink blearily at the chaos that was the hallway. “What happened here?”

“Didn’t you know? Scorched walls are  _ the _ new look in interior design.”

“Like those tables people fuck up on purpose? I never did get that. My tables get fucked up the old-fashioned way. Careless neglect.”

“Yours probably already has scorch marks.”

“Oh, b—.” Wade coughed obviously to interrupt himself before he finished the nickname, and Peter swallowed hard, his grip tightening on Wade’s shoulder. “You know I'm on the cutting edge with that.”

“Tooooooooe pick,” they said in unison, and Peter’s lips quirked. They’d made their way to the stairs, and Wade shivered against his chest.

“I really hate stairs. I’m cursed I think.” Peter snorted.

“Well, lucky for you, we’re not walking up them.” Peter looked down at Wade. “Think you can hold onto my back or should I web you into place?”

“What if I want you to web me up?”—

Peter shook his head, but he webbed Wade to him with a series of awkward maneuvers. He was honestly a bit glad Wade was out of it for that part. The alarms had died down and the building was eerily empty as Peter got them out to the street and webbed them up to the roofs. Wade was a hot line pressed along his back, and Peter stopped halfway back to his apartment, perched in one of his favorite little alcoves so Wade wouldn’t be in a draft..

The last time he’d had a fever was when he’d been bitten, and he didn’t remember anything about what to do for a person with the flu. He probably needed to go to the store and buy... something? He pulled out his phone and dialed quickly.

“Yeah, Aunt May? Um, what do you do for the flu?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates should be more regular again (fingers crossed) but if you are ever curious or worried I've abandoned you you can always contact me [on tumblr](http://lunarshores.tumblr.com)! I always like hearing from you guys.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello finally!!! 
> 
> sorry to take so long everyone <3 thank you all so much for the support! your comments and the asks on [tumblr](http://lunarshores.tumblr.com) are why this chapter got done! thank you all for reminding me and checking in even though i was taking forever. it really meant a lot to know that so many of you were eagerly awaiting this.
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Illness and needles, though I tried to keep it as ungraphic as possible
> 
> as always the wonderful [ImperialMint](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperialMint) was kind enough to beta this for me and kick my ass into gear to write it lol

Peter carefully arranged Wade on the roof where he had stuff stashed nearest to the 24 hour market. He really did need to keep blankets it seemed, but that was a thought for the next visit to the thrift store. He bundled Wade up in an old hoodie (thankfully way too big for him, so it managed to only look moderately too tight on Wade. He threw on clothes himself and dropped into the nearest alley.

The market wasn’t too crowded this time of night, so Peter was able to quickly get the things Aunt May had suggested. He barely remembered to thank the cashier before dashed out the doors. When he was back in the alley, he pulled on his mask and slung himself up the building with webbing. 

It took some doing balancing Wade and the groceries and keeping his hands free, but he somehow managed by awkwardly bundling Wade and the groceries up together in webbing. Rarely did he give so much thanks that no one could catch a photo of him unless he let them. 

Wade was still unconscious which was good because Peter would  _ never _ live this down, but also concerning because it was  _ Wade _ . Peter found himself constantly checking to see if he was breathing.

The unnatural silence lasted through Peter bundling them all in his bedroom window, which was way too small for him and Wade and the groceries. It felt like a weird version of Operation, but he managed to puzzle them all in without dropping Wade all six stories to the hard pavement. He doubted Aunt May would approve of that as a nursing technique. 

He did lose the cough drops, but snagged them with a web on the way in the window. They ended up collapsed on the floor in a heap with supplies scattered all around and under them. Peter was half on top of Wade and at this point, he was closer to breaking all the rules about caring for the sick Aunt May had passed on than following any of them.

At least he got the cough drops.

Wade groaned. “Worst Uber ever,” he muttered and pulled Peter closer, snuggling into his chest. “So  _ cold. _ ”

Peter swallowed hard. Wade was too close, and Peter needed to get him to bed. To rest. Body heat poured off of Wade, despite his claims of being cold.

“Pete? Is that your well-sculpted front I’m feeling up?”

“Yep.” Peter swung them both up, getting to his feet with Wade cradled in his arms.

Wade was frowning up at him, and Peter knew he deserved it. “Ugh, another hallucination. Peter hates us again.” The knife that had been in Peter’s heart twisted a little deeper. “Let me tell you, fake-Spidey, fevers are no fun. Especially the mad science kind. They leave a funny after taste in your mouth that nothing shakes.”

Peter laid Wade down in his bed, tucking him in. Wade whined at the lack of body heat, and Peter shushed him gently, pressing a kiss to his bare forehead. He froze when his own action hit him, then shook himself. Wade was sick. He was just being comforting.

“I need to go get you some water and medicine,” he said when Wade whined.

“Even hallucination-Spidey is mean.”

“I’m not a hallucination, Wade. I rescued you.”

“Nuh-uh, I rescued you!” Wade burrowed his face into the pillow and his next words were muffled. “I remember that. Such a credit thief. Heros always are.”

Peter sighed and pulled away to get a glass of water and read the cold medicine instructions. Would a normal dose even help Wade? He frowned at the package for a moment, then popped out three times the usual dose. He’d seen Wade deal with far worse.

Wade had thrown off all of the covers and was snoring, drooling into Peter’s pillow. 

“Why can’t you be easy to take care of? Peter groused and poked Wade hard in the shoulder.

Wade snorted awake, fumbling around into half a defensive position then just collapsing back blinking blearily up at Peter. “Never mind, just kill me now. It will be merciful.”

“You big baby, you normally don’t complain when you lose limbs.” Peter dragged him up into a semi-seated position. He was deadweight, not helping at all, and Peter nudged him over so he could sit on the bed to better hold him up. Wade whined again, then snuggled into Peter’s side, his skin sticky and far too warm to be healthy. “I know, but you need to take your medicine. It’ll make you feel better.”

“Can I have ice cream?” Wade asked.

“If you take your medicine and let me take a few samples, sure,” Peter said. He’d have to go out again, but he was pretty sure Wade would be completely out after this. Peter handed him the pills, and Wade tossed them back before gulping at the water. “And let me hook you up to some fluids,” Peter added. “You’re probably dehydrated.”

“Do you think that will kill me?”

“I’m kinda rooting for no,” Peter said, and Wade sighed, crossing his arms with a aggrieved sigh.

Peter grabbed his first aid kit from the bathroom and brought it in. He’d not-so-subtly had Aunt May teach him how to insert an IV not long ago and picked up some normal saline and other supplies online. You never knew when you’d need to be able to start an IV in his line of work, and it was good for blood loss.

“Great more needles,” Wade said as Peter felt for a vein. He was relieved to see the last needle mark was closed. Despite his protests, he was completely relaxed as Peter worked on him, which sent another pang of guilt spiralling through Peter.

“Sorry,” he said. “It has to be done.” He finished up and took some blood samples.

Wade sighed and snuggled back down into his pillows. “Watcha goin’ do with the blood?” he slurred, and Peter smiled.

“I’m going to isolate the virus and synthesize a vaccine.” Peter finished putting away the supplies and turned back to Wade. “They mean to kill all mutants and mutates with it.”

Wade’s eyes flew open from drifting shut. “It could kill you?” He started to get out of the bed, but Peter pressed him back down. He was weak as a kitten and far less difficult to wrangle. 

“Shhhh, you need to sleep. I will be fine; don’t worry.”

“But—”

“Just rest. I’ll be fine.” Peter swallowed past the lump in his throat. The last time they saw each other, Wade had been—rightfully—furious with him. And now Wade was trying to protect him, even half dead as he was. If he left now, there is no way he’d make it far. Peter was positive now that threats against him had also kept Wade in that awful place. They needed to have a talk about that. Like some fancy missiles would beat him. “You should get some sleep.”

“Don’ wanna. E’erything hurts. More than usual I mean.” 

Peter’s lips twitched, and his fingers brushed along Wade’s feverish cheek without conscious thought. Wade leaned into the caress like a cat and his eyes fluttered shut.

“I know. You’ll feel better soon though.” Peter started to get up, but Wade’s hand on his knee stopped him.

“Don’ leave.”

“I’ll be right back,” Peter said, and Wade frowned but let him up. Peter brought his laptop into his room and settled on the opposite side of the bed. He pretended not to notice Wade creeping closer and closer, until his face was pressed against Peter’s side. It didn’t take long before Wade’s breathing evened out, and Peter pulled up the data from the Phoenix Labs and dove into his research on vaccines and viral treatments with Wade’s snoring a comforting reminder in the background.

After a hour of research, he’d tried to give the Avengers a call; he could really use Dr. Banner’s experience with this and full access to the labs. 

Friday intercepted his call on the first ring.

“Hello, Mr. Spider-man.  I’m sorry to say that sir is not available at the moment.”

“Are any of the others available?”

“There is currently an army of robots attacking London, Taipei, and Istanbul.”

Peter frowned. That was awfully convenient. “I don’t suppose they are the same kind from the other day in New York?”

“There haven’t been time to run any tests yet, I’m afraid.” Peter pulled up the news on his laptop and saw familiar robots spouting flame and a strange sort of goo that hardened enough it had the Hulk trapped on a skyscraper. 

“Never mind.” 

“May I contact SHIELD for you?”

Peter hesitated. SHIELD would have the resources that would make this much simpler, but he trusted them about as far as Aunt May could throw them.

“No, that’s fine. Please just have Tony or Dr. Banner give me a call when they are free.”

“Of course, sir.”

“And I might need access to the labs.” He might be able to get the work done at school, but not without being awfully suspicious. For one thing, he was supposedly out with food poisoning. 

Ha, he should have told them he had the flu.

“Sir has already arranged for you to have permission for all floors but the private quarters. I will be happy to assist you.”

“Thank you, Friday.”

Peter hung up and checked Wade’s temperature again. He was worried about the increasingly labored breathing. After rearranging the pillows in a vain attempt to ease the shallow breaths he could barely feel, Peter turned back to the research. He was on his own, but at least he had a lab. Now he needed a plan.  

 

*******

The light was fading and Peter wiggled out from under Wade to turn on a light. Wade had slept restlessly, breathing harsh and with a relentless cough that had Peter worried. Flu often killed through pneumonia, and the virus had been designed to increase the likelihood of primary infection in the lungs. Antibiotics wouldn’t help, and there wasn’t much else Peter could do but hope Wade’s unique physiology would triumph over a half-finished virus.

Twice Peter had urged Wade into a sitting positions to give him more medicine when his fever spiked. Unlike the first time Wade wasn’t joking around and whining, but feverish and half-delirious as he fought for air.

Peter had been planning on a vaccine, but making enough virus would take time and resources he didn’t have easy access to with the Avengers off on some mission and likely only the incubation period before he got sick. He would have to go to the tower labs no matter what, but making enough vaccine for the entire mutant and mutate community would be labor intensive, and in all likelihood they would have a different strain by the time it was effective. 

If Peter made it to that point alive which was looking more doubtful.

If this hit  _ Wade _ this hard, the rest of them wouldn’t have time to worry about vaccinating. Peter probably already had been exposed, and after a day of reading the more gruesome symptoms the flu could and had caused, he was not looking forward to it.

Luckily, there was another way. The same reason they had used Wade to make the virus mutate faster would help Peter make a serum that could help destroy the virus. He would just have to separate out the correct antibody and mass produce it. Their own immune systems would seek the virus out and destroy it.

“Ugh,” Wade said, his voice rasping. “ ‘m I dead?”

“Nah,” Peter said, relief flooding through him in a rush. He sat back down on the bed next to Wade as his knees gave out. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been the last few hours. “Just  _ mostly _ dead.”

“Miracle Max?” Wade asked his head raising up slightly before he gave up trying to see and dropped in back down with a muffled thump.

“Sorry, it’s just me.”

“Peter? Now I know I’m dead. Peter wouldn’t be here. No, you’re right, it could be a hallucination. I don’t know. They don’t normally hurt this much.” Wade forced himself to a sitting position and tilted his head at Peter. “Did I get hit by a truck? Several trucks?”

Peter’s lips twitched. “No, you have the flu.”

“Inconceivable!” Wade narrowed his eyes at Peter and coughed weakly. “I do  _ not _ get sick.” He frowned. “Wait, that  _ bitch _ did this to me.”

“Yeah,” Peter said. “Well, I don’t actually know the specific person, but those Phoenix Lab people engineering a virus to destroy anyone with a mutation.”

“Inconceivable!” Wade coughed.

Peter raised a brow at him. “Did being sick for a day leave you with only one movie to reference?”

Wade pouted, and Peter’s lips twitched as he reached past Wade to get the glass of water he’d had waiting and offered it to Wade. “My head feels like it’s going to explode, and the world is all wobbly. Be thankful it’s a least a  _ good _ movie.”

“Take a deep breath for me,” Peter said.

“As you wish,” Wade said with a flourish, but he breathed deeply with no problems, and Peter laughed. Wade would be okay. “Why do I hurt  _ everywhere _ ? Did Dr. Fuckface do terrible things to me?” Wade poked his own arm. “It doesn’t look injured.”

Peter’s heart clenched. “Wade?”

“Hmm?” Wade looked up from glaring down at his arms, and Peter bit back an explanation about why Wade hurt everywhere. He’d done too much research today. Random not-fun-at-all facts kept springing to mind. He absently smoothed out the blanket, gathering his courage.

“I’m sorry.”

Wade froze.

After a moment of silence, Wade laughed. “It’s okay, Petey. I am not worth your apologies. Don’t worry about it.”

The blanket ripped under Peter’s hand. Wade watched wide-eyed. “I know,” he muttered so softly Peter could almost not hear. “So hot.”

“No, Wade, you don’t get to brush this off.” Peter snarled. “We were friends. Or I thought we were.”

Wade nodded once jerkily when Peter didn’t go on.

“We were friends, and I didn’t trust you enough to even give you a  _ chance _ to explain. I just decided you hadn’t changed, that all this talk about trying to be a hero was a lie, and you should be mad at me,  _ furious _ .”

“I couldn’t be mad at you, Petey,” Wade said softly. “Not for long.” 

He shook himself and smiled at Peter. Not his usual grin, but something softer, something real. “And besides, I don’t trust me either. Why should I expect you to? I don’t deserve trust.”

“I think you do,” Peter said. “You earned it, Wade. And I’m sorry I didn’t give it to you.”

Wade looked at the tattered remains of the blanket for a moment. Peter took deep breath, pulling his hands away from the bed and staring down the scraps. He always bought blankets that made good bandages once they got torn. Usually it was the nightmares that did it.

Fingers traced his cheek. Startled, Peter looked up. Wade was smiling, his eyes crinkled, and didn’t drop his hand.

“You trusted me with you. And your aunt. That’s more than enough for me.” Wade coughed again, but it already sounded better. 

Peter opened his mouth to protest, then decided against it. Why should Wade believe him? He hadn’t earned it. But this time he would.

Wade’s stomach growled suddenly, and he snatched his hand back. Peter blinked, startled, then laughed.

“Why don’t you clean up while I get some soup started?” he asked, getting off the bed and reaching out a hand to help Wade up. “We can go from there depending how you’re feeling.”

Wade nodded eagerly and bounced up with Peter’s help. “I feel like an old man’s three-day-old sauna towel. Essence of sweaty, old man balls after an unsatisfying $1 experience with a crackwhore because he still likes to pretend he can get it up, but they ran shrieking from the sight of his hemorrhoids. Now it’s gone rancid and moldy after sitting in a hamper, and with my luck they had some incontinence issues to boot, Petey. Not good.”

“Thank you for that image,” Peter said, then shoved him toward the bathroom. “I should have some sweats somewhere that might fit you.” Peter’s eyes flicked over Wade’s ridiculously broad shoulders. “Maybe.”

He started digging through his drawers as Wade stumbled into the bathroom. The faint sound of Wade cursing out his temperamental shower had Peter smiling as found clothes that might have a chance at fitting Wade.

After dropping the clothes through the cracked door—Wade was singing about how his milkshake brought all the boys to the yard exuberantly enough to make Peter snicker—he headed to the kitchen to sort through the bags he’d just scattered all over the counter. He put a bowl of soup in the microwave, then ordered tacos. Wade had probably burned more calories than soup would replenish.

Wade trudged out soon after the microwave beeped, and Peter snorted.

“Don’t fit at all, do they?”

“They show off my ass-ets,” Wade said, but his voice lacked some of its usual pep. He flopped down into a chair at the table, and Peter set his soup in front of him. Wade made a face.

“Soup? Being sick sucks. I am never doing it again.” He looked up at Peter sadly. “Why do I still feel terrible? It’s been  _ forever _ . Dying is more comfortable than this.”

Peter’s lips twitched. “Most people take more than a week to get over the flu, you know. You’re lucky to be up now.” Peter got himself a bowl of soup and settled down with his laptop. Separating out specific antibodies was complicated, but it would be worth it.

“A week?” Wade slumped just thinking about it. “It’s amazing humanity has made it this long, Petey.”

“You’ll probably be fine by tomorrow.”

“I’d better be.”

Wade ate his chicken noodle soup with a despondent air, sneaking sidelong glances at Peter whenever he thought Peter was too distracted.

“How long was I out?” he asked when he was almost done.

“I rescued you this morning,” Peter said absently. Wade nudged his spoon toward him, and Peter absently took a bite. 

“And this supposedly highly contagious virus that is guaranteed to kill anyone but me and maybe me too... that’s not going to kill you because...”

Peter raised a brow, then turned back to his research. Wade stole his spoon and offered him a bite, making train noises. Peter snatched the spoon back.

“I have the entire incubation period, your blood, and access to the Avenger labs. It’ll be fine.” Peter ate a spoonful of soup and looked at Wade as if to say “see?”, but Wade was gaping at him.

“You idiot! Why are you wasting time making me fucking soup?! Even if this whatever kills me, it’s not like it matters.”

“It matters to me, and I needed to do the research anyway. Viruses are not my area of expertise.” Peter looked Wade over, ignoring Wade’s answering rant. He’d lost the pallor from earlier and from the sounds of it was barely congested anymore. Peter beamed, and Wade trailed off, staring at him. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Peter said to answer Wade’s baffled look. “If you feel up to it, you can come with me to the labs.”

“Of course, baby boy,” Wade said, and Peter’s grin widened. He hated that stupid nickname, but it was weird when Wade hadn’t been calling him that. “I never pass up a chance to ride you.”

The doorbell rang, and Peter got up, heart pounding, hoping he’d turned to the door fast enough for Wade to miss his reaction. It was just another of Wade’s ridiculous innuendos. He needed to pull himself together.

 

*******

After ridiculous amounts of the delicious tacos Peter had ordered, Wade’s head was finally clearing of the fog.

**I can’t believe we doubted Petey! The soup was obviously a ruse.**

_ The soup was what his aunt told him to feed sick people, dolt. She probably doesn’t like us. _

Wade shook his head. Well, cleared of the sickness-induced fog, at any rate. Peter was gathering up his laptop and talking to Friday on the phone, nerd babble that Wade ignored in favor of appreciating his voice.

_ What are we even doing here? I thought we’d learned our lesson. _

“I’m not sure it’s a lesson I can learn.” Wade shifted uncomfortably in Peter’s clothes. His suit was still wet from washing it in his shower, and Peter hadn’t rescued his weapons besides his katana. 

_ I’m pretty sure there is a message in that. _

**That Petey likes his bad guys sliced and diced all personal like than with their heads blown off from a distance? I’d be happy to show him what we can do with our sword.**

_ Yes, that’s  _ _ exactly _ _ what Spider-man would think. _

**I know him so well! One day it will be biblical.**

“Screw all of that, we need to get an extra suit and some decent weapons, even if they are loaded with rubber bullets.” Wade frowned, watching as Peter zipped up his bag. He wasn’t showing any signs of sickness yet, and it  _ was _ probably possible he wouldn’t get sick, but Wade wasn’t going to take any time away from his recovery to go to one of his stashes scattered around the cities.

Leaving him alone with the entirety of Phoenix Labs after them was out of the question, especially because Peter would never be in this situation if Wade hadn’t dragged him in.

That left only one thing to do.

Peter hung up with Friday, and smiled his stupidly-perfect, beautiful smile. His hair was tousled from the mask earlier and running his hands through it as he’d worked all day. 

_ Completely unfair. This is still a really bad idea. _

“Fuck it, I live for bad ideas,” Wade said absently, and Peter’s smile grew. “Can I borrow your phone?”

“Sure.” Peter chucked it at him almost too fast to see, and Wade plucked it out of the air and dialed.

“Heeeeeeeeeeeey, Bob! How are the kids?”

 

*******

“Mister Wilson, all defense systems are up. It is not necessary for you to be on guard.” Friday managed to sound exasperated, as Wade prowled from window to window, securing the floor that Peter had chosen to do his nerd thing in.

“Uh-huh, and how many times has this tower been destroyed?” Wade asked and moved to the next window, one hand resting on a gun. Bob had made it shortly after they had with everything Wade had asked for.

**Good, Bob! He brought all of our toys.**

“We’ll have to lay of the threats and bodily harm for a while.”

**Nooooooooooooo, he likes it. He needs it!**

_ What’s a while? Two days? A couple hours. _

“Two days is a long time, but we’ll be busy.

“That’s none of you concern,” Friday said, dragging Wade back to the outside world.

**We could breach these so-called defenses in less time than it takes to get a stiffy watching Petey argue with Wolvy.**

“I hardly think anyone would be looking for you here, when you’re expressly not permitted inside the tower for any reason.” Friday sniffed, and Wade’s grin was sharp enough to cut.

“Too bad your precious tin can told you to give Spidey whatever he wanted.” 

“I doubt Mr. Stark considered you as a possibility for Peter to want.”

“Him and me both,” Wade said. “It is an everlasting disappointment.”

**Petey totally wants us.**

_ As a friend... no, ally... on a very temporary basis, maybe. _

**Nuh-uh, don’t you notice how he gets all flu—**

There was a crash in the direction of Peter’s lab, and Wade was in motion. “Shut up!”

The glass door in between them shattered into a million pieces as Wade crashed through it. Peter looked up, startled, his head tilted like a little bird as he looked at Wade. Wade dragged his eyes from him to look around the room, guns already out and at the ready. The lab was empty except for Peter, who was grinning at him with his mask half rolled up, head ducked down just a bit.

Wade didn’t coo, but Yellow took care of that for him

“I just moved the bench a bit on accident, sorry,” Peter said, biting down on his lower lip to ineffectively hold back his smile. “You’d think Tony would have them better secured.” 

The lab bench had slid a foot closer to the door. The sound Wade had heard was probably the bolts shatters. Wade holstered his weapons.

**How does he do it? Constantly breaking all the adorable records as easily as breathing, while being the sexiest thing in spandex?**

“I don’t know,” Wade said. “It’s going to kill me for good.”

Peter’s grin slipped off his face, and Wade had a moment of thankfully internal panic—he didn’t know, he couldn’t know, or he’d hate Wade all over again—as Peter crossed the room to him.

“Are you feeling sick again?” he asked, and Wade’s knees threatened to buckle.

_ He shouldn’t waste his worry on the likes of you. _

“Not me, baby boy. I am as fit as Captain America’s ass.” 

Peter snorted. “Mine isn’t good enough to be an example?”

“Nah, your ass is a fitness outlier and shouldn’t be counted. Such impossible standards aren’t applicable to the rest of us mortals.”

“You’re literally immortal, Wade.”

Wade waved a hand dismissively. “Are you done with your nerd stuff yet?”

_ That completely failed at sounding blase. Why don’t you just shout your love for him from the rooftops? _

**Good plan! But it has to wait until no one wants to kill Petey. Unless...we could bring him with us! That way he’d be safe.**

_ You always manage to astound me with your idiocy. _

“I isolated the antibodies in your blood and set up the cells to mass produce them.” Peter stretched luxuriously, his spine cracking as he bent backward to a ridiculous degree.

“So you’re safe?” Wade asked.

Peter started typing something on one of Tony’s ridiculous light keyboards. He looked back up at Wade, a hand rubbing his temple. “No, the sample in your blood isn’t near enough for one dose, much less how many we’ll need. There will be enough serum soon enough, and Friday will be able to take over manufacturing more while we take down Phoenix Labs.”

Wade frowned. “You can take more blood.”

**All of it. He can have all of your blood.**

_ I think that would be a bit pathetically obvious. _

Peter smiled at him, looking up from his work. He was drooping, Wade noticed uneasily. 

_ No control over his strength, tired. He has a headache, look at how he’s pinching his nose. _

Wade’s heart dropped to his feet.

“You’re sick,” he said, and Peter didn’t say anything. Wade didn’t think the terror would get any worse, but he discovered he’d been so very wrong.

He couldn’t save Peter from this. How did you fight a virus? Maybe he could shrink himself down, like in the cartoon, enter Peter’s blood stream and— 

“The incubation period is unnaturally fast if that’s true, but there will be enough serum for a first dose in less than an hour. It won’t have time to kill me.” 

“And then you’ll be all better?”

**He’d better be better.**

Peter shrugged, and Wade fought down the urge to shake him. “Even with the serum, my immune system will take some time to kill off the virus. Still, they are  _ your _ antibodies I used...”

**We’re going to be in Peter!**

“While I’m sick, I figured we could get the plans together for taking out Phoenix. We have to stop them before they can infect the others. They—”

Peter swayed in his chair, and Wade made it just in time to catch him as he slid to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually did quite a bit of research on the flu and vaccines for this chapter because it was so cool. I left out the really cool but very gross and terrible complications and symptoms that were prevalent in the Spanish Flu, which killed more people than World War because they are really gross but if you have any questions or corrections please let me know!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your patience. I promise this story isn't abandoned or anything, and it will be finished. I have a whole long list of excuses for why it's been seven months (shit), but I figure I've made you all wait long enough, so feel free to shoot me an [ask on tumblr](http://lunarshores.tumblr.com/ask) if you're curious.
> 
> Massive thanks to [ImperialMint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperialMint) for betaing <3<3 as well as all the people that left a comment in the last seven months and reminded me that this was still a thing.

“P-Spider-man?” Wade asked, and Peter’s eyes fluttered. He was boneless in Wade’s arms and far too warm.

Wade caught Peter easily, heart hammering in his throat. 

_ Is he dead? _

**NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Our love is so young.**

Wade muttered under his breath, "C'mon Petey, be okay."

"No name in the lab," Peter mumbled, and Wade laughed, a sharp bark of relief. He realized how tightly he was holding Peter to his chest and gulped.

"Whatever you say, Spidey. I'll do anything for you, you know."

"Stop it." Peter said. 

"Stop what."

"No killing."

Wade laughed and scooped Peter up. Peter immediately snuggled into his chest. Like he trusted Wade. Peter inhaled deeply and some of the tension in him melted in Wade’s arms. Wade could feel his breath through his suit, brushing along his chest like the faintest caress.  Yellow cooed in the back of his mind, and Wade had to fight not to repeat it.

"Not even in my imagination?" he asked, trying to jerk himself back from forbidden thoughts.

**Ha, jerk.**

_ We'll come back to this later. _

Peter hummed. "It might be okay." Wade set him gently on the couch, and Peter shivered when they separated. 

**See he loves us!**

Wade looked around, but there was a distinct lack of blankets in the lab.

"Fuck, what do we do for sick Spidey?" Wade asked. 

**Ooooo, cuddles!**

_ Cuddles won't make him better, idiot. He needs soup or something. _

Wade snarled, looking back at the blinking machines. They lacked any sort of comprehensible information. Peter's cell phone was on the bench though.

_ We can't call his aunt!! _

**Why not? I bet she'd loooooove us. Older ladies always got the hots for us. Just look at Blind Al!**

_ She only loves us because she can't see our face. _

**Petey loves us, and he's seen our face.**

Wade snarled. "Shut up already!" He took a deep breath, hand edging away from his gun. Peter needed him, but knowing him, he wouldn't want his aunt to worry about him. He'd just do what Peter had done for him and hope he didn't leave anything out.

Peter was sitting up. 

"What do you think you're doing?" Wade nudged him back down, and he fell back worryingly easily.

"Wade, there isn't time for naps right now."

"What do you mean? So there was time when I was sick, but not when you are? It's not like it even matters if I die!"

_ Great job. No hysteria there. No obvious signs you're madly in love with him. He'd recoil if he had the energy. _

"It matters to me, and yes. I'm done with the research, Friday is all ready to mass produce the serum, but once the first batch is done, Wade, we need to move. They tied this into your DNA. It evolves even faster than a regular flu strain, and most people would be dead in hours rather than days."

Everything in Wade came to a screeching halt. His lungs seized, and it was a moment before he could get anything out again.

"What about you?!"

"You're not the only one with a healing factor." Peter shrugged, only a shadow of the expressive motion he normally made. He sat up, and this time Wade was too slow to prevent it.

"C'mere," Peter said, tugging on Wade's arm, and it was mumbled and soft from exhaustion and perfect.

_ If it weren't for the whole he's dying, and it's our fault thing. _

**See he does love us! He’s just is shy.**

"Fucking idiot," Wade said, letting himself be tugged, and didn't qualify who he meant: Peter, Yellow, or himself.

_ All of the above.  _

Peter huffed at him, and Wade could feel the heat pouring off of him.

"Medicine?"

"I took it half an hour ago."

"You knew you were sick and didn't say anything?"

"Wouldn't have done anyone any good." Wade let himself settle a hand on Peter's arm, but instead of protesting Peter just leaned into the touch, his head tilting back a moment and exposing the line of his throat.

"You're going to be the death of me, Spidey," he muttered, and Peter’s lips quirked. 

**What a good way to go.**

_ I'll grant we've had worse. _

Wade took a deep breath. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Wait with me and then plan how we're going to stop this thing because my head doesn't want to work."

Wade laughed, heartsick. His hand tightened on Peter's arm, and Peter's other hand came up to cover it as Peter's head dropped until it was resting on Wade's shoulder.

"Yeah," he tried to say, but his voice was caught somewhere in his throat as Peter's breathing deepened. 

He cleared his throat. "I suppose I can't just kill them all while you're asleep and getting better?"

Peter's lips twitched, and he turned a bit, so Wade could tell he was staring at him.

"You won't."

Wade's chest seized at the sincerity in that simple statement. Peter had just written him off not that long ago, but now he was here, falling asleep against him. He'd known he would be sick and vulnerable, but he'd asked Wade to come along, insisted that Friday let him in. It was like he thought he actually had to make up before.

_ It's us who had to pay for Peter not trusting us. _

**I told you guys: he loves us.**

Wade frowned. "Impossible." 

_ Don't flatter yourself. Or insult him. He's not stupid.  _

"Exactly."

But he sat there, still as a statue, with Peter’s too-shallow breaths whispering against his neck, and he couldn't quite beat down the tiniest shred of hope.

The machine beeped, and Wade hopped up like he was stung, hands ready to do something. Peter huffed a tired laugh from where he'd been flung on the couch.

"Relax, Wade. It's going to be fine."

Wade pushed down a growl because Peter was sick, and he didn't know what he was saying. Peter flipped up to his feet with less than his usual grace and then swayed alarmingly. Wade reached out and steadied him. Peter smiled, the curve of his lips written with exhaustion, but still so genuine that Wade's heart clenched at the easy way Peter leaned into his hands.

**Told you he loved us.**

Wade froze. 

"No."

Peter frowned, and Wade would never get over being allowed to picture that adorable little eyebrow wrinkle happening under the mask. 

"Really, Wade, have a little faith in me." His frown deepened, and Wade tightened his grip before stepping back so quickly Peter almost lost his balance. He opened his mouth to say something, and Wade's breath caught in his chest because Yellow had a point maybe if you looked at objectively but what even  _ was _ objectivity really? Just because Peter trusted him, and let him look at his face, and rescued him, and let him touch him, and talked with his aunt about him and---this wasn’t helping.

_ I hate to say it but... maybe he has a point. _

**I knew you guys would see it my way eventually. You need to work on your listening skills.**

Peter turned to the completed serum and rummaged through a drawer for a syringe, still swaying on his feet and moving with a stiffness that was just unnatural on him.  

The syringe fell out of his hands. "Fudge cakes!" Peter said, not moving to pick it up for a moment.

Wade hastened over to help, taking the syringe from Peter's shaking hands. Peter smiled up in thanks, but it fell from his face.

"You'd think you'd never seen someone sick before," Peter said. "It's not too bad. Don't worry so much." 

"You worried over me even though it hardly matters if I die," Wade said, and he pushed down Yellow's boast. "I get to worry."

"It matters," Peter said softly, and then shook himself. "Can you inject me? My hands aren't that steady."

Wade swallowed. "Are you sure? So many opportunities for dick jokes."

"Just prick me and get it over with."

***swoons* Hot damn, did you hear that? He is perfect for us. Shut up, and kiss him, you fool!**

"Shut up!" Wade hissed, and Peter didn't even bat an eye, just smirked in a way that made it hard to remember the situation. 

He grinned past his thudding heart, and let his voice drop. "Oh, you know I'm always ready to play nurse for you, baby boy," he murmured, and the flush visible under Peter's mask was probably from the high fever. "How do you want me?"

Peter talked him through drawing up the serum and injecting him, and Wade kept silent, ignoring Peter's glances.

When he'd stuck a Dora the Explorer (TM) band aid he'd pulled from his belt ( _ Unsanitary! _ Worth it since it made Peter smile) on the puncture mark, Peter reached up to cradle Wade's face. It hit him then how close they were. He could feel the unnatural heat from Peter’s skin, feel a trace of his breath across his throat.

Peter frowned. "Wade..."

"Excuse me,  Mr. Spider-man, but Sir is calling."

They leapt apart like two kids caught necking behind the bleachers, and Wade burst into laughter.

"Oh my god, you actually jumped onto the ceiling!" Peter huffed, his face turning redder. “It’s like everything I’ve ever dreamed. The ceiling!”

"It’s a reflex---you know what, never mind. Answer the call, Friday."

"No need, kid, I've been listening. How's it hanging?"

Peter dropped sullenly to the floor, as Wade laughed even harder. He swayed a bit, and Wade inched closer, in case Peter needed to lean on him for support.

Peter glared at the screen that had popped up with Tony's giant face spread across the entire wall of the lab.

_ And people say we have issues.  _

**At least we don't need to build a giant penis buildings to compensate. We got plenty to keep Petey happy.**

"Hey kid, it's getting pretty bad over here, but I got a few seconds. What did you need?"

"I wanted to check with Dr. Banner on synthesizing vaccines and antivirals." Peter coughed thickly, and Tony froze. 

“Looks like we’re working the same case. We just rounded up a bunch of mad scientists with their damn robots, claiming they were going to rid the Earth of the scourge of mutant kind.” Tony squinted. “You okay kid?”

“I’ll be fine. Probably. I just injected myself with an antiviral serum.” Peter listed, and Wade surreptitiously propped him back up. Peter leaned back into his shoulder, his arm brushing Wade’s. He really should be sitting down.

“I thought they hadn’t released the virus yet.”

“They were still incubating it... in Wade. I got him out of there before they were done but...”

Tony made a face. “That cannot be good. That explains what the fuck he’s doing in my building. We might have found a robot double of him, and it might look like they purposely let us find that video so no one would go looking for him when he vanished but that doesn’t mean he has access to my labs.” Tony glared and Wade flipped him off behind Peter’s back. Peter elbowed him anyway, but it was worth the look on Tony’s face.

“Let’s make sure you’re going to get well, kid. You document everything?”

Wade tuned out as they started a long stream of techno-science babble and instead snagged one of those dope ass rolly chairs for Peter before resuming checking out the windows, looking back when he heard a hint of irritation in Peter’s voice.

“I’ll be fine, Tony. I’m not staying in a lab, and I’m  _ definitely _ not going to the infirmary. How long would secret identities remain secret there.”

Tony’s lips tightened on the screen, but then he sighed. “We’re just worried about you, kid.” 

“I don’t need your worry. I’ll be fine. If the serum isn’t working, I’ll let you know, but for now I am going home.”

“At least let me get you a cab or something.”

Peter’s lips twitched into a smirk under the mask, and he glanced at Wade, who faked a swoon at look.

_ Just keep telling yourself it was fake. _

“Wade will take me home, I’m sure.”

“Of course, baby boy.” 

Tony started to nod and then did a double take. “Wait, Wade, as in the deadly mercenary who we just warned you not to trust? That Wade knows where you live when not even we do?!”

“Sure. I told you I trusted him, and you know the only reason I don’t let you know is because SHIELD would know.”

“Don’t be jelly he trusts me more than you, Rusty Bucket. I am just naturally charming like that,” Wade said.

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right whatever. I have to finish up here, and we’ll talk about this when we get back. Drink plenty of fluids and call immediately if it looks like you’re developing any of the nastier symptoms.” The screen winked out of life, and they were silent for a moment.

“He does know he’s not your dad, right?” Wade finally asked. “Because...”

“I have known him since I was 15. They can all be a bit...” Peter trailed off.

“Am I going to get the shovel talk from Captain America?”

“We’re not dating, so that would hardly be appropriate.”

“Are you finally asking me to prom?”

“No, and I think they’d have Natasha do it.” Peter’s grin was ruined by a coughing fit, and Wade crossed to him, shifting on his feet in front of the chair, uncertain what to do.

**Reach out!**

_ The last thing he needs is your gross hands on him. Just leave him be. _

Wade ignored both and just stood there, arms crossed, instead.

“Never mind. I’m never talking to you again,” he said when Peter quieted, watching his chest rise and fall far too quickly.

“Yeah, right. Let me know how that goes.”

“I can be quiet!” 

Peter laughed softly. “Clearly.”

Wade crossed his arms. “Whatever. Let’s just get you home.”

They packed up extra serum and Peter’s things, but when Peter stumbled to the window, Wade stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

“You can’t be seriously thinking about webbing out of here. You can’t even walk!”

“Can too, plus I carried you around New York already. It’s your turn to carry me.”

_ God, he really is out of it to suggest that. _

“Yeah but you have super strength! Carrying me is like carrying around your favorite teddy bear.”

**Can we be his teddy bear forever?**

“I’ll be fine, Wade.” Peter slumped a little. “We can take your way if you insist.”

“I do.” Peter leaned against his side as Wade lead him to the elevator, and Wade had to force himself to breathe normally. Or at all.

**Breathing is overrated anyway.**

***

“Was all that really necessary?” Peter asked. He’d been in three different cabs, taken the subway at least twice though things got kinda fuzzy with all the different trains, changed outfits twice, and stumbled several blocks leaning shamelessly on Wade. They’d finally, finally reached his building, and Peter was not looking forward to the prospect of stairs. He so rarely climbed them.

“Actually, that was the short version,” Wade said, glancing at him worriedly. They’d both ditched the masks at some point in their convoluted dash around the city. He had pretty eyes. “You looked tired.”

Peter couldn’t really argue that. He was tired, and every single muscle ached with an intensity that reminded him of getting bit by the spider. He was definitely feverish. 

“Losing a tail and staying off cameras takes a bit of effort when you can’t fly through the air on strings.” Wade took his keys from Peter’s shaking hand and unlocked the door to the building, tugging Peter in behind him by the hand. 

Peter closed his eyes for a moment. He was letting himself get too close, he knew, but it was too hard to resist when he felt like crap, and Wade was hovering over him. It was only because it made Wade worry less.

His eyes flew open when Wade effortlessly scooped him up bridal style and he scrambled for purchase.  “No, Wade. Absolutely not.”

“You did say I could carry you.” Wade’s grin was shameless and beautiful without a mask to cover it up. “And there is no way you’re making it up all these stairs.”

Peter groaned but relaxed back into Wade’s arms. It was only a couple days since he’d carried Wade up several flights, and he didn’t exactly mind. Wade started upstairs and Peter let his eyes drift closed again. He could blame this on the fuzziness clouding his head.

“This is my best stair experience since that night we had tacos,” Wade said as they rounded the first floor.

“Is the curse lifted?” Peter asked. Wade huffed out a laugh.

“Nah, it’s the kind that requires a kiss from a prince.” Wade took the stairs quickly, but his breathing was regular like he was strolling through the park. It was unfairly hot considering Peter could do the same thing with ease.   

He had to bite back his first few answers to Wade needing a kiss. Luckily, he had another coughing fit that saved him from answering. He needed to get over this flu and fast. 

They reached his door soon after, Wade singing a Taylor Swift song softly under his breath as he juggled Peter and Peter’s keys and eased them into the apartment. He tucked Peter into bed, and Peter let the drowsiness swamp him, the sounds of Wade puttering in his kitchen lulling him into sleep.

***

Wade had just checked on Peter for the 157th time ( _ Why are you still counting?) _ , assuring himself that Peter was still breathing, when there was a knock at the door. Gun a comforting weight in his hand, he pulled up the hood from his hoody.

**No mask? Why no mask?**

_ This is Peter’s apartment. It’d look a bit strange if Deadpool were hanging around some random grad student’s apartment. _

**But...**

“Shut up,” Wade said, and went to the door the door, gun pointed at whoever was waiting on the other side.

**Sure a mask is weird, but answering the door with a gun is fine?**

_ It’s New York. Actually the mask probably would have been fine without the gun. We have cosplayers now too, ever since our movie. _

**Well, the gun is important.**

Wade threw open the door. The woman who had knocked didn’t appear to notice the gun and instead smiled widely. “Oh, you must be Wade. Peter’s told me all about you. I’m May Parker.”

Wade holstered the gun so fast he nearly shot himself in the leg in the process. “Aunt May! Come in, come in. I hope it’s all good things. He raves about you, and who could blame him?”

_ Suck up. _

**Shhhh, we’re meeting our future mother-in-law. Let him suck up!**

Aunt May chuckled. “He does seem pretty taken with you.” She stepped in Peter’s apartment in time to miss Wade’s look of shock and bustled into the kitchen with her bag. “You’re feeling better already, dear? Peter told me you had the flu, so I brought a few things.” 

“Oh, nothing keeps me down for long.” Wade chuckled nervously. “Peter caught it from me though, and I’m sure he’ll be glad you stopped by. I’m afraid I’m not very good at his sort of thing.”

“Nonsense, I’m sure you’re doing just fine. It’s kind of you to look after him.” She finished unpacking and leaned forward conspiratorially. “He’d be up flinging himself around the city like a fool as soon as I shut the door. It wouldn’t be the first time. It was cute that he thought I never noticed though.”

Wade strangled the desire to run and check that Peter hadn’t escaped while he was distracted.

_ 158th time's the charm _ .

“The flu still?” Aunt May asked.

Wade nodded, then frowned. “It’s a genetically engineered super flu or something but Peter said it was the flu.”

Aunt May’s brows rose and she tutted disapprovingly as she made up a tray of soup and tea with honey. Wade felt a strong urge to take notes, but his Hello Kitty notebook was in the duffel bag he’d shoved their suits in on their walk back. “The things people get up to these days. I hope you put a stop to that?”

“Er... I think the Avengers did. I wasn’t really paying attention. Petey was sick and people have been trying to kill us with missiles and robots.”

Aunt May’s lips twitched. “I see. I’ll go take this in for him. Have you given him any medicine?”

“He took a bunch of pills when we got back,” Wade said. “Same thing he’d been giving me. Also some sort of weird serum thingy that he made from my blood.”

“Good.”

Aunt May came back a few minutes later. “I left the tray in with him. He’s not looking good, especially considering that boy can’t get sick anymore, but nothing too worrisome. He just needs to rest.” 

She started to pick up her bag and Wade’s eyes widened. 

“You’re going? But---”

“I’ve got to get to work. You’ll do fine. Just make sure he eats and drinks plenty of fluids and doesn’t go chasing mad scientists across the city.” She chuckled. “You’re probably more qualified for the last one than I am.” She tore a piece of paper off the Star Trek notepad on the fridge and jotted down something. She handed Wade her phone number like it was an obvious thing to do, handing a deadly mercenary her phone number. Wade’s mouth dropped open and he staggered back dramatically, one hand clutching the number to his chest.

“It’s not everyday I get such a pretty lady’s number. Wait until I tell Peter I’ve seduced his aunt unwittingly! This might throw our whole friendship in jeopardy. He can’t know.”

“Oh you,” Aunt May said and smacked his shoulder. To his delight her cheeks were pink. “If you’re too worried just call. And I’ll expect both of you for Sunday dinner. No excuses this week, not even if the world needs saving.”

“I promise we’ll have all the world saving promptly wrapped up by Saturday night,” Wade said before he could think better of it.

“I should hope so. I’m making meatloaf.”

With that she left, leaving Wade staring at the door she carefully locked behind her in shock.

He shook himself, then shuffled into Peter’s room ( _ 158\.  _ **But who’s counting?** ) He was awake this time, poking at the soup with a spoon.

“I think I just seduced your aunt. She definitely just seduced me.” Peter’s lips quirked.

“Wait until you try her meatloaf before you run off together. You might change your mind.” He ate a spoonful of soup. “I’m lucky she only had time for takeout.” Peter sounded all stuffed up and his words were just a bit slurred. It was adorable if it weren’t for the fact that he was potentially dying.

“I won’t come if you don’t want me to,” Wade said, edging closer, and Peter looked up in surprise. 

“Don’t be silly. She wouldn’t have invited you if she didn’t want you to come.”

“But, I’m me.” 

“Very profound.” Peter went back to stirring his soup around. “You’d better come if you don’t want to disappoint her. Or we can pretend we’re busy saving the world, I suppose.”

“She made it clear that wasn’t an excuse.”

“Oh, darn. I guess we’ll have to go.”

“Eat your soup, baby boy. Don’t just play with it.”

Peter laughed. “Only if you’ll watch a movie with me.”

“Of course. But I get to pick, and then it’s back to sleep for you.”

“I already have  _ Lilo & Stitch  _ ready to go.”

“It’s like you read my mind.” 

Peter patted the bed next to him and Wade gingerly crawled in, keeping a careful foot away.

**Netflix and chill!! It’s finally happening.**

_ He’s sick, you freak. And I still don’t buy into this secretly in love with us. No one is that stupid, especially Peter. _

**Oh, Peter now is he?**

_ Shut up. _

Peter shifted closer and propped his laptop up so they could both see, slumping against his pillows. His breathing was still raspy, and Wade could feel the heat pouring off of him. He found himself focusing more on the too-quick rise and fall of Peter’s chest more than Lilo biting that red-haired bully. 

They fell in closer as the movie continued, until their shoulders brushed, then closer again Peter leaned heavily into him, and Wade didn’t have to watch his breathing any more---he could feel it. The coughing fits were the worst though. There was nothing Wade could do but wait and push tea and water on him when they ended.

“Ohana means family,” Peter said along with Lilo, and Wade didn’t bother to hide how his eyes were watering. No one should make it through  _ Lilo & Stitch  _ with dry eyes.

**It would be inhuman.**

_ Not even the inhumans could fail to appreciate the artistry that is Lilo & Stitch. _

Peter had to reach for the tissues.

**Even with the snot, he’s so our true love.**

_ Crying at Lilo & Stitch means he’s our true love? I bet even Kingpin has to choke back some tears and then go punch someone into pulp to make it through _ .

Peter’s breath deepened, and next time Wade looked his eyes had drifted shut, head tucked against his shoulder. Wade pressed pause just as the alien lady descended from her ship.

No one should have to eat soup twice in a day. He’d order Petey some get-well tacos. He started to detangle himself from Peter, but Peter’s fingers tightened and he made an adorable puppy noise. Wade held back a coo and settled back down. 

The tacos could wait for a bit.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear from you either here or [at my tumblr!](http://lunarshores.tumblr.com/) I promise the next update will _not_ take seven months. Promise.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I did promise it wouldn't be seven months? Nine isn't seven, right? 
> 
> Sorry to all of you for taking so incredibly long on this. I could explain myself and all the crazy life things, but I'm pretty sure you'd all just rather get to the very belated chapter. Unbeta'd since I've made you wait long enough. Thank you all for your support, kudos, comments, and sticking with me! It really means a lot.
> 
> If any of the dialogue seems a little bit random, it's probably a quote from something. I'd explain more, but spoilers.

It was getting dark when Wade forced himself to untangle from Peter, who proved very reluctant to let him go. 

**Nooooooo, why can’t we stay!!? He needs us!**

_ He needs us to get him food, medicine, and plan for wiping out the people that did this to him.  _

Wade attempted to pry the hand that had literally  _ stuck _ rather distractingly on his chest off without waking Peter. 

“C’mon Petey. Normally, I would be delighted, but we need to get you medicine and fluids. You are way too hot.”

**He’s always way too hot. Our spidey is smokin’**

“Not  _ literally. _ ”

**OMG is he on fire?! Quick stop, drop, and roll!!**

_ I don’t know whether to be impressed you know what literally means given how often you misuse it or concerned. _

**Save your vocabulary lessons for when the love of our many lives is not on fire!**

“I need both of you to shut the fuck up, like yesterday,” Wade snarled, and to his utter shock, there was no answer. He took a deep breath and smiled at the adorable little pout Peter was sporting. 

Wade shushed him and brushed a gloved hand down Peter’s face. “As adorable as this is, and trust me I’m going to be reliving it a ridiculous amount when this is all over and you hate me again, but you need to let me out of bed, Petey.” Wade said. “Words I never thought I’d say.” 

Peter’s brow furrowed and he mumbled something unhappily, but his hands dropped from Wade’s chest and lower back. He scrunched into a ball and promptly stole all the blankets forming a Spidey-ritto. Wade snapped a picture as he left. It was safe since all you could see was the generic covers and a small tuft of untamed brown hair, so it promptly became his wallpaper.

He called in the order for taco delivery, while sorting through the medicines and the instructions Aunt May had left for Spidey-doses. After measuring out the pills, Wade made up a tray of juice, water, and tea, and headed back in the room.

“Spiiiiiiidey, time to hydrate and medicate!” A groan emmentated from the covers.

“Too cold.”

“I brought tea, made according to Aunt May’s instructions.” The lump groaned again, and Wade set the tray down on the bedside table. He poked the lump. The blankets lowered, so Peter could glare balefully at him. A cough wracked him, and Wade frowned. 

“How you feelin’, baby boy?”

“I’ve been worse,” Peter rasped. He was flushed from the fever and the coughing, yet still managed to looked pale and wan. 

“That’s really not comforting,” Wade said. “Want help up to take your pills?”

“No.” Peter shifted ever-so-slightly. Wade winced remembering the feeling of being run over several times, run through a chipper shredder, and then slightly mis-reassembled. He slumped back down. “Yes.”

Wade edged over and drew in a breath, then carefully eased an arm under Peter’s shoulders to lift him. He propped him up with pillows before leaning him back. Peter smiled up at him crookedly.

Wade quickly turned away. “I have three kinds of beverages, and you’re drinking them all. There’s tacos on the way or more of that cursed soup if you’re not up to that, but you’re eating  _ something _ even if you don’t want to, I don’t care what they say about feeding colds and starving fevers and why the fuck do I even know that saying also what the hell do you do if you have a fever with a cold.” He paused, then looked at Peter. “That happens, right?”

Peter blinked at him then nodded ever so slightly and winced. “Ugh, you were right.”

“I was?” Wade handed Peter his pills and the glass of pineapple juice. 

“This is awful. How the flip do people deal with this.” Peter tossed back the pills and drank about half the juice under Wade’s watchful eye. 

“I’m sure it’s worse than normal because they fucked with it. It’s not just the flu it’s the evil flu.”

“Right. Must be it.” Wade put a hand on his hip and pointedly looked at the rest of the juice. Peter looked at the ceiling. Wade tapped his foot, and Peter sighed.

He tossed back the rest of the juice.

“Now tacos, soup, or both?” Peter sighed again as Wade switched out his cup for the tea and put the empty one on the tray. Peter sipped the tea obligingly after a glare. 

“Whatever.” Just being up for this long had clearly taxed Peter, and he was listing. Wade’s stomach churned. 

“At least a can of soup then,” he said. “Drink up while I’m gone.” Peter half heartedly took another sip of tea under Wade’s watchful gaze. Wade turned to the door then looked back over his shoulder to check. Peter froze from where he was leaning over to set it down, a comically guilty look on his face. He took another sip, and Wade nodded and went to heat up the soup. While it was microwaving (in Peter’s terrifying microwave, which sounded like it was going to explode any second, and Wade  _ knew _ explosions), there was a knock at the door. He collected the food with minimal threats and terror and a ridiculous tip. 

_ We need to buy Peter a new microwave. _

“I doubt he wants us to.”

_ For the good of his whole apartment building. _

“Do you think that argument would work?” It dinged, and Wade reflexively ducked.

**I second.** **You almost dropped tacos!**

“Yeah, okay. Maybe if we sneak it in he won’t notice.” Wade bundled the tacos under one arm and gathered up the soup. “He’s kinda spacy about details.”

_ Like you’re one to talk. _

**On Petey, it looks adorable though!! And he ignites our rocket too.**

“Soup’s on!” Wade said to Peter’s clear lack of enthusiasm. “Also the tacos came at a completely unrealistic time because the author is lazy. Otherwise this damn story would be done and we could get on with our lives. Or at least to the good part. Talk about slow burn.”

Peter opened his mouth to ask, then coughed and shook his head. They ate in silence, which really meant Wade babbled while Peter poked at his soup and refused tacos.

**He is dying, isn’t he?**

Wade frowned and dropped into silent brooding. Peter stared at the soup listlessly. He set aside his first picked at taco and felt Peter’s forehead. Heat radiated off of him.

“It’s okay, Wade.” Peter coughed. “A high fever just means the antibodies from the serum are working.”

_ So you’re killing him _ .

“I am not killing him!” Wade snapped, and Peter reached a shaky hand up to rest on his shoulder. 

“Nope, you’re saving me. It just feels like shit.” His smile was wan, but it still set Wade’s heart on double time.

_ You’d do anything for that smile, it’s pathetic. _ Yellow started humming.

**Truuuuuuuue love it must be true loooooove.**

_ At least you’re aware this is going to lead to broken hearts. _

“At least I’m not swinging you around the city like a sack of potatoes.” Wade glared at Peter pointedly. “It does not feel good, even if I do get up close and personal with your masterpiece of an ass.”

Peter snorted. “I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re not going to eat or drink, you need fluids.”

Peter nodded. “That’s not a bad plan.” Wade gathered up the dishes and dumped them on the counter before getting the supplies Peter requested. He watched tensely as Peter cleaned the area.

“Relax, Wade. I’ve done it to myself in much worse situations than this.”

“That does not make me feel better.” 

**Why didn’t anyone take care of him?!**

_ He doesn’t have anyone. He told us that. He’s not going to bother his aunt. He’s the type to suffer in silence. _

“I need to learn first aid,” Wade said, and Peter snorted as he shakily prepared the IV.  

“Shhh, don’t make me laugh. My hands are shaky enough as it is.” He took a deep breath and held it, and Wade couldn’t help but follow suit, as if it might help. It took unbearably long before he got a clean stick in between coughing fits.

_ Definitely learning first aid. You useless idiot, you should have been able to help him. _

Wade helped him tape the needle in place and followed Peter’s directions to get the fluids to flow. Peter settled back into bed. 

“Thanks for being here, Wade.” Peter’s words were slurred and thick, but Wade wasn’t sure he’d ever heard anything more beautiful. His heart clenched, and he let himself press a quick peck to Peter’s forehead. His lips burned as he drew back.

“Anything for you, baby boy. You want the moon? I’d lasso the moon for you.”

_ Daring. _

**YES TELL HIM HOW YOU FEEL!**

“He’s delirious, it’s fine,” Wade said. 

He’d cleaned up and was heading to turn off the light, when Peter stopped him.

“Hey Wade?” Wade turned around, his heart hammering in his chest. Shit, he was supposed to be unconscious.

“Yeah?”

“You’re like the coolest person I’ve ever met---” Peter broke into a coughing fit that had Wade clenching his hands. “---and you don’t have to try.”  

His heart clenched. 

_ Was that--- _

**I TOLD YOU FUCKERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

Peter had dropped off to sleep before Wade managed to restart his brain. He tucked Peter in more securely then slipped into the bed beside him. He had a lot to think about.

\---

Wade wasn’t asleep when it happened. He’d been dozing off and on all night, unable to slip into anything deeper while Peter’s breath was labored. Unable to get Peter’s words out of his head, what they meant, what they didn’t mean. Couldn’t mean. Peter had snuggled up against him, shivering, so Wade had thrown an arm around him at some point. 

**What’s there to think about? He couldn’t have been clearer.**

_ He could have said the actual words. _

“I didn’t. He had to have known I’d recognize that,” Wade whispered. Peter didn’t stir.

_ Maybe he hasn’t even seen that movie. Also delirious.  _

**Fight me. Don’t you dishonor Spidey with such accusations!**

Every muscle in Peter’s body tensed up. Wade shook off his thoughts.

“Peter? Are you okay, baby boy?”

He didn’t answer. Wade counted Peter’s breath, but it wasn’t over the number Peter had told him when Wade had been sick. “Peter?”

Peter started seizing. 

“Fuck, fuck fuck, no, Peter, no.” Wade scrambled up. “Fuck, what are you supposed to do for seizures?!”

**Thirty grams of Ativan stat! TV doctors don’t lie!**

“We don’t have that!” Wade cleared off the bed and fumbled the bedside lamp on. It was worse when he could see. Peter’s eyes were rolled in the back of his head as he shook uncontrollably. Wade turned Peter on his side. Wait, wasn’t that for drunk people? “I’m going to kill Fred for not including it.” 

_ Don’t hold him down. _

“Why not?”

_ I think I remember hearing that. _

“Real helpful!” Wade stood over Peter, fists clenched. Powerless. “Fuck!” Wade yelled and there was a crash of glass as he knocked Peter’s abandoned mug to the floor.

Tears slipped down his face. “No,” he whispered. “Why did you have to help me. I’d have been fine. Please, baby boy.”

Peter stopped. Wade didn’t dare breathe. He threw himself towards the bed, fumbling for Peter’s pulse. He snarled when he realized he still had gloves on and threw them across the room towards whatever he’d broken. His fingers settled on Peter’s throat, fumbling. Nothing. It was then he realized Peter’s chest was still.

The world froze.

A sob caught in his throat as Wade brushed the hair out of Peter’s still face. “No, please.” Tears fell on Peter’s face, and Wade choked. 

“Please don’t leave me. I love you.”

**NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR YOUR SHITTY REFERENCE CONFESSIONS.**

_ Really? Disney? At a time like this? _

Wade didn’t hear them. “Fuck, no, Peter. Not like this.”

The chest under Wade’s hand shifted, and he scrambled backward. It lifted again, and Wade bit back a sob as Peter’s eyes fluttered.

**Our sleeping beauty!**

_ I think it’s more like the beast. Though that should be us. _

“You’re okay!” Wade lunged forward to hug him. Peter’s eyes fluttered open and his brow wrinkled adorably. 

“Why are you trying to break my ribs?” Peter voice came out only a croak, but Wade had never heard anything more beautiful. “You know how much I hate broken ribs.”

“Ehh, they’re not the worst.” Wade eased up and leaned back. Peter raised up a hand to brush Wade’s tears away, and Wade made a noise between a laugh and a sob. “Femurs are the worst, baby boy. Especially when they shatter.”

“Never had... pneumonia... too.”

Wade’s hand clenched again at the reminder. Peter was so fragile. Peter made a distressed noise and reached out to grab Wade’s hands. There was blood on them from his nails had cut into his palm.

“‘M okay,” Peter said. 

“You had a seizure!” 

“How long?”

“An eternity.” 

“Didn’t time it?” Peter sat up a little, but stopped at Wade’s glare. “It’s probably fine, Wade. Simple... febrile seizures usually... don’t cause damage.”

Wade let himself be tugged back into the bed. Peter had a bare fraction of his strength, but he was pouting. And alive.

“It’s okay,” Peter whispered. “Sleep.”

Wade lay awake and counted each breath Peter took.

\---

Peter dragged himself into awareness. It sucked. Majorly. The light was slanting through the blinds at the right angle to be home, so he groaned. What the heck had he run into last night? It felt exactly like that time he’d been thrown into the windshield of an oncoming semi.

“Petey! You’re alive!” Peter forced his eyes open. They were gitty, and his head felt like it was going to explode. The rest of him felt like he’d been thrown into several brick buildings, but nothing quite felt broken. A maskless Wade beamed down at him.

Peter then realized he was wrapped around Wade, face pressed into his thigh as his arms clung around Wade’s waist. Wade was sitting up propped up on the pillows as Peter had been drooling on this  _ thigh _ . Peter shot up, cheeks flaming, and general pain forgotten. 

They stared at each other in silence for a moment, Wade just smiling like a loon and looking at him like he was a miracle or something. 

“Uhhh...” Peter said and stopped. 

“He hasn’t said any actual words though,” Wade said, and it took longer than it should have for Peter to process Wade was talking  _ about  _ him, not to him. The grin slipped from Wade’s lips and his forehead wrinkled. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter rasped, and cleared his throat. “I think it’s mostly gone. I told you not to worry.”

Wade’s expression  _ snapped _ . Peter had seen him slide from ridiculous to deadly before, but it had never been focused at him like this. He sensed no danger, but he couldn’t help but inhale sharply, muscles going tense. Ow.

“You  _ almost died _ ,” Wade snarled. “Next time I’m being experimented on in some pit  _ with something contagious and deadly  _ **_you leave me the fuck there!_ ** ” Wade took a deep breath and seemed to notice Peter’s reaction. He deflated and he brought a hand up to cradle Peter’s cheek. “Sorry, baby boy. You scared me last night.” 

A hazy memory of Wade’s panicking the night before, and Peter reached out a hand to rest on Wade’s knee. He knew what it was like watching the life slip out of someone’s eyes, someone precious, and not be able to do anything to stop it. He couldn’t even stand it when it was Wade, who  _ would  _ come back to him.

“Sorry, Wade.” Wade softened a bit more at that. “Not going to be able to promise that, but I’ll try to be careful?” He smiled up hopefully, and Wade threw a pillow at him. Peter snagged it out of the air.

“Dork,” Wade said fondly. Peter hugged the pillow, suddenly conscious they were in his rumpled bed, entirely too close. Wade’s thigh was still wet, and Peter was not thinking about that. His blush could surely be explained by the fever he no longer had.

Wade jumped up and out of bed. “Breakfast! We need celebration food while we discuss the plans.”

“Plans?” Peter levered himself up and out of bed. His legs felt a bit shaky still, and he was weirdly off balance. He groaned and let himself slump along Wade’s steady back.“You were so right. How do people do this being sick thing?”

“It sucks.” Wade nodded sagely, then tugged him along. His grip around Peter’s wrist was gentle and burned. Peter followed along at his urging and was summarily shoved in the direction of the bathroom. “Showering makes it 10,000 times better. I’ll start on the pancakes.”

By the time Peter had dragged himself out of the shower, the familiar smell of bacon and pancakes permeated the apartment, and he was starting to feel better. He hadn’t thought about clothes on the way in, so he slung a towel around his waist rather than put on his sweat soaked pajamas from yesterday. He opened the door to find Wade poised to knock, one hand raised in the air and mouth open.

Wade froze, and his eyes slid down Peter’s bare chest to the towel. Peter swallowed. His gaze was almost tangible as it slid along his damp skin. Wade had checked him out obviously over the years, commenting on it, but this was different. There was no masks between them now. There was more than banter. Peter swallowed audibly, and Wade’s eyes snapped back to his face. Wade’s eyes were beautiful, Peter decided. Soft, blue, and the only thing about him that showed a hint of vulnerability. 

Wade cleared his throat and unsubtly shoved his hands behind his back. Peter bit his lower lips to hide his smile. 

“Hi,” Peter said when Wade continued to just stand there, not speaking.

“You had me at hello,” Wade said. Peter’s heart flipped the way it had the first time he’d jumped off a building. 

Wade put his hands to his face in horror before he could even think of reacting. “The pancakes!” He dashed off, and Peter slumped against the doorframe, his legs suddenly beyond shakey. 

First moon lassoing and now this.

Peter let out a breath.

He could do this.

Wade bustled around Peter’s kitchen like he’d been working in it for years, humming Walkin’ on Sunshine and dancing along as he slid the last pancakes onto two mismatched plates. Peter beamed at him. Wade set the pan in the sink and hustled over, standing way too close and slipping off a glove to press his hand to Peter’s forehead. Wade grinned.

“Back to only your usual non-literal hotness, baby boy.” Wade’s hand lingered on Peter’s face, sliding along to rest with Wade’s thumb brushing Peter’s cheek. His fingers trailed into Peter’s hair, and Peter let himself lean into the touch. Wade stared down at him, their eyes caught. Peter's lips curved into a smile. The moment caught, everything apart from the two of them fading into the background. Wade licked his lips. Peter’s smiled widened.

“Pancakes?” Peter asked breaking the moment. Because he was hungry. Probably.

“And bacon and eggs and fruit and---yeah. To build up your strength.” Wade dropped the massively overfilled plates on the coffee table with a flourish and ushered Peter onto the couch. Peter’s eyes widened at the spread of food. 

“Did you go shopping?”

“They deliver groceries now, Petey---It’s the twenty fourth and a half century. No way in hell was I leaving you. You’ll be lucky to get rid of me.”

“Thanks, Wade.”

“What do you want?” Wade had loaded Peter’s beaten up coffee table down with breakfast food until it looked in imminent danger of collapse. Peter’s stomach growled.

“I’ll have what you’re having.” Wade’s eyes shot to his and narrowed. Peter tried to smile, but his lips felt like they didn’t quite manage it. Shit. He’d definitely caught that one. To his surprise Wade let it slide. Wade stared at him for a moment, and Peter’s breath caught. Wade cleared his throat and started piling both their plates high. He set Peter’s in front of his with a flourish and glared until Peter started digging in. They ate in silence until Wade started serving seconds.

“Now, since I didn’t sleep, I had time to plot as you requested, baby boy.” 

“Oh?” Peter shoveled more pancakes into his mouth and was rewarded with a cup of coffee. Where Wade had pulled it from was a mystery, but his head was still a little fuzzy so he chose not to question it. At least it wasn’t more tea.

“I’ve based it on movie plots, so you might need to bring me back to reality.”

“What’s new?” 

“That’s just rude.”

“It’s okay, Wade. I like you very much just as you are.” Wade paused a piece of bacon halfway to his lips,eyes narrowing. Peter shifted under his stare and looked down at his eggs. 

“You are the epitome of everything I have ever looked for in another human being.” Wade’s voice was different. Deeper. And gravelly like the words were stuck in his throat and he had to force them out. Peter felt a blush crushing up his cheeks as their eyes caught and held. Wade shook himself. “Still rude though. Now shush.” 

“As you wish,” Peter said, sitting back and digging through the couch cushions to flip on the local news in the background. 

“Now, if you’re as amazing as you...” Wade trailed off at the look on Peter’s face and leaned back on his palms to see what had caught his attention on TV as Peter turned up the volume. AVENGERS SICK OR MISSING scrolled along the bottom of the screen.

“With the Avengers gone, there is no one to turn to for answers.The flu virus that started out in the mutant and mutate community is now spreading among average humans and superheros alike. With us to discuss this world health crisis is Dr. Allen, one of the premier experts on pandemics.”

They both started when the camera turned to point at the woman who’d been giving orders to  Wade’s target the night with the bomb. She looked just as terrifying and her blood red lips curled and she thanked the anchor. 

“Dr. Allen, you’ve been warning the government and public about the potential for pandemics as biowarfare for years. In your opinion is it possible this pandemic was caused by someone purposefully?”

Dr. Allen nodded. “I fear this may be just that. It is extremely unlikely for a flu virus this strong and this deadly to appear so quickly. The flu evolves quickly, but not that quickly.”

Peter jerked his head away. “So you were saying about a plan?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the rest planned out and it should be only 2-3 more chapters to go! I'd like to get this done and wrapped up before the end of August (2 years really should be long enough right?!) but we all know how my promises go, so I'm not promising anything xD
> 
> Let me know what you think! (And if any of the love confessions threw you or you have a fav you'd like to see thrown in the future. No promises, but I started having to use Google so...)


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